Fracture
by Soul of Ashes
Summary: SxAG When the Planet doesn't want you to return, what do you do with the rest of a half life?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

_Would you do it with me_

_Heal the scars and change the stars_

_Would you do it for me_

_Turn loose the heaven within_

[Nightwish - Ever Dream]

There was no sound but crunching snow and the sandy hissing of snow on an endless frozen tundra. The ice plain stretched in every cardinal direction with unending brightness that sent lasers of pain through his eyes. In all directions, the nothingness offended his very sense of direction, leaving him resigned to purposeless walking in circles. It was so featureless, his eyes actually strained to find some spot of color or hue other than pure, painful white. It was like staring at a painting that seemed unfinished, only to discover that no artwork is. He merely shut both eyes and kept moving forward - for what else had he to do but perservere?

Beyond the whistling wind, as he marched, his toes losing feeling to the frozen cold, his boots armored in ice and lances of cold, cold snow.

On his way to the Promised Land, he had found himself here. The one-winged angel couldn't fly here. His strength were ripped away like his body warmth in the rapidly brewing storm.

Without ceasing his march, he said softly, "I must find shelter, or I'll freeze to death out here. Wherever this is."

_The cold. It calls to you, does it not, Sephiroth?_

The same familiar grating voice. The sound of it filled the busy, demon infested cavern of his mind, reverberated. It was his own, taunting him.

"I don't know what you mean," he lied calmly, tightening his cold hands into white-knuckled fists. Leather wasn't very good at keeping anything very warm, much less the knotted muscles in his calves becoming sore with endless walking, or the tendons in his hands growing hard with cold.

Suddenly he stopped, felt the creeping dangerous threat of falling unconcious grasp skeletal fingers around his skull. His vision grew dark.

_Do you remember when you died, and your cold body awoke to the touch of Black Materia? _

_Do you remember?_

Why did that voice sound accusatory? A jabbed finger in his direction? _You are a failure_. His throat closed on a sour, acrid lump. He fell to one knee, but he refused to move. A noiseless movement caught his attention directly in front of him. The Planet had rejected him, expactorated his tattered corpse from Its core to walk here in this color-bleeding nowhere.

_There shouldn't be anyone out here. Unless I'm seeing an illusion. I've gone snowblind; I shouldn't be able to see anything. _

But there they were - vertical shadows that resolved into people-shadows, growing closer. Several dogs yapped and ka-yiked in the closing distance. He was still on one knee and not very sure he could stand again. He locked his elbow, leaning on his hand, buried elbow-deep in snow. A brisk wind blew him sideways. He let it.

_So be it._ Resigned. He let the numbness strip him of pain caused by cold, and it was gone.

----

All alone. Just laying out in the snow as if laying down for a quick nap, but judging from the blue on his chapped, shapely mouth, he was freezing to death. So she had pulled his body onto the dog sled and brought him back, calling it a day. It was no use trying to argue with the Planet. If it had called her to bring this man to her fireside, then it would be so.

The only reason she stayed cramped up against the far side of the cave, as far away as she could, was the familiarity of his face. After all, the last time she had ever seen his face was very briefly before the pain in her abdomen and the blood pouring from her wound had driven her to sleep that would last forever.

Or so she had presumed.

Just as she had woken up before, she was in this cool cave, warmth all around her, naked, with a fire burning nearby. The hooded faceless stranger who helped her was long gone. He never spoke once, and she wasn't not entirely certain he was a male. The light smoothness with which the creature had moved about the warm cave lent it an alien grace.

Finally it had left her alone with the supplies to make it on her own, including a pair of dogs that pulled her tiny sled nimbly across the snowfields. The figure's cloak fluttered whenever it came and went, bringing back food to return her strength. Eventually it returned with a stave. Worked with metal, figures etched into its entire length, she took it solemnly - having a good feeling it was a gift and the last of the very few she would recieve in her new life. Then he was gone.

She began to hear the comforting voice of her Planet once more - a child's timid voice, fearful of a beating, but telling her that someone was coming to see her, but he was too weak. She had to find him in the snow before he fell into death once again, and then she would have to go even farther to seek him.

This the Planet decreed. Find the man, and bring him back. There was no other indication.

In the warmth of her cave home, decorated with whatever she had found out in the wilderness to at least make it comfortable, the man lay bunched in rough wooly blankets made of mountainous ramskin and the skin of a bear she had found.

A silver waterfall of hair gathered itself near the bottom of the little raised cot, moisture standing out all over his forehead. She never saw his eyes reopen for hours. In between making him drink snow water and feeding him bits of chewed leaves dug up from the snowbare patches along the mountain, he continued to breathe laborously and never opened his eyes.

A day had gone by before she began to worry he might die anyway.

"I know you," she whispered fearfully on the morning of the second day, sleepless herself. She used a metal container the cloaked savior had given her to press some water against the man's lips. He shuddered; she recoiled, staring in fear. _Where is this feeling coming from?_ Her body ached, right through her middle, with a hard unmoving persistence. "Please wake up and go away... I'm so scared of you and I don't know why."

Near that afternoon, he began stirring in a restless manner. She pulled at least the bearskin blanket away. He was too warm, she realized. The fire was kept built nice and high, and as soon as she had done so, he relaxed. He breathed more and more evenly, until his eyes gently fluttered open. Sweat cooled on his forehead. Both eyes illuminated his cheekbones with a sickly marine glow. Then the cat-slitted pupils swiveled and fixed on her as she cowered on the other side of the cave.

His mind began to resolve the past events into some sensical manner of chronological order. He saw a figure in the snow, heard the sounds of dogs barking. Now he could smell the dogs, who sat up and wagged their tails near the entrance of the brightness in the cave he slept in. He saw the woman, recognized her face from somewhere, even as fear contorted her features. Vertigo and nausea whipped through him, a sour froth gathering at the back of his throat.

"Hello?" she ventured softly. Her bravery availed her. No trace of fear in her voice. She scooted forward, clutching with white knuckles a long metal stave. "I found you outside. You were beat up pretty bad, but... you seem to be healing very quickly."

His body ached in a thousand different places. He tried to move his hand, discovered his entire arm was immobile. He shifted, and the sickening tilt to the room made him halt and swallow hard. "Where."

"This is my house," she said in a joking manner. "The mortgage is pretty cheap, but you're welcome to stay as long as you don't cause any trouble."

Her attempt at levity helped him find his center, even if seeing her face made the stone ball in his chest crackle and crunch in on itself. He levered himself up onto his elbow, shaking his hair loose. His entire scalp felt crackly and sticky with sweat and perhaps even blood. The decaying stink of it made his stomach turn. "Who are you?" he asked. "You brought me back here?"

"Yes, I did," she answered, sliding around the first question as though it were an enormous hole about to swallow her up. The truth was, she had a hard time remembering. The cloaked man had never told her. "Are you hungry? I've boiled some stew for my lunch but you can have some. I'll never eat it all."

One of the dogs barked for attention. She stood up, patted the animal, then reappeared from the glow at the front of the cave. "It's sunny out today. I don't expect a storm, but you should still stay inside until you're a bit stronger. Don't want you to fall down the mountain."

"Then..." His stomach gurgled with renewed hunger. In a few moments, a little bowl with a rough spoon was before him. With shaking effort, he managed to feed himself - giving her a deadpan stare that kept her on her side of the fire.

"Take your time," she offered gently. "It's hard to get over the snowfields. It's like a big eraser and nothing stays still." She brushed back chocolate brown hair with honeyed highlights, twisted it into a tight neat bun against the back of her head. He watched her do this without speaking, but the actions, the soft firelight on her hair, made his heart easy.

_She's afraid of me._ Whether he knew why didn't matter. It was true enough to the point that he kept his eyes away from her for a long time, like keeping a wild cat at ease. Fear was a reasonable reaction to his presence. Then again, having trouble remembering his own name gave him reasonable cause for concern as well. What if everyone was afraid of him and he would never know why?

And why did he still feel that strangling pain in his chest when he looked at her, even met her gaze for a brief moment? Strength trickled into his muscles like a weak rainfall, not like a deluge. He closed his eyes, warmth filling him from the inside and flowing out. Rest was the only thing left for him to do; the beautiful, sorrowful woman that feared him would have to wait.

-----------

In a few hours, he was fully awake once more, with more bodily functions demanding to be attended to. With a monumental effort, he managed to get up without waking the woman. He found his clothing in a state of repair. She had sewn with painstaking effort every tear in his trousers, every rip in his cloak, with what appeared to be fine strong fiber. Whether it was plant or animal, it didn't matter. It was fine work and it would withstand mild mistreatment. There was a bowl-shaped dip in the back of the cave, and bars of hand-made soap at its edge. He took some stones super-heated by fire and brought in buckets and buckets of snow from around the edge of the cave, and when it was high enough to climb in to his waist on his knees, he washed quietly. Dried, encrusted blood stubbornly resisted being removed, but after a good hard scrubbing and a soak, the flakes finally slipped away, turning the water a tinted brown. He sat by the fire to dry, revelling in the fresh prickly clean sensation sliding over the skin stretched down his spine, his back, his shoulders. When he was dry, slid the dizzyingly familiar leather. They even smelled clean.

She must have toiled for hours trying to make these clean. He gazed at the russet-haired woman while her chest rose and fell in even, deep motions. He kept bating his own breath until she took another breath - and another - as if he expected her to stop breathing.

_She would look much more familiar, dead._

He clutched at the side of his head. A dull throb began in his temple. His eyes closed as he dressed, mechanically going through the phantom familarity of dressing, his skin encapsulated in the clothing of another man, so it felt. These were not his clothes. They belonged to a murderer.

Sephiroth breathed, more at ease once he was clothed. He had no idea whether to say he was modest, or simply practical. Was it practical to be modest? His eyes caught the glow of a small basket, which held some herbs tied with bits of string similar to the string which had sewn his clothing. With snow, he found a dented metal pot and boiled some water. By the time it was boiling, Aerith stirred and rolled over, rubbing her eyes, her arm curved behind her head. When she saw him by the fire, she gasped.

"Be careful! You'll burn yourself!"

"I may be a man," the white-haired man retorted gently, "but I know my way around a kitchen fire. What's that?" He aimed his thumb back toward some other containers. "Is there anything I can cook over there?"

"There's some salted meat... but nothing very big." She slid her arms down and tried to hide herself under the blankets, clearly enjoying the warmth of rest.

"Is there enough to make more of that stew?"

"I don't know... wouldn't hurt to look..."

He discovered that there were indeed more rations, but not enough to make a totally filling stew. He made what he could, boiling together herbs and ingredients that the strange young woman had managed to scrape off the frozen mountainside. She sat up, bunching the bear fur blanket around herself.

As he handed her a bowl, she sighed, "I think we had better move into town at last."

The spoon fell back into his bowl. He sat cross-legged, since seating arrangements were otherwise lacking. "Town?"

"Yes. There's a town, near the bottom of the mountains. I was told that there's an enormous crater in the mountain, and crossing it takes days - but it's not in our way, so..."

"So why don't you live in the town?"

"I... I just haven't moved there yet. And the dogs can't carry everything there."

"All you really need is money. With money, you don't need to take all this with you. We can get more things when we're there." Suddenly, he was smiling at her, and it felt good to be smiling.

"But I don't have any money." Aerith shuddered a little. "I don't like the idea of money."

"I don't either." He had nothing to add after that, and ate meditatively, before he said, "We can travel there as far as we can with the dogs, then let them go. We'll sell whatever we find along the way. Right?" His eyes lifted, cat-slitted pupils shrinking. "The money will help us do... whatever it is we're meant to do." Whenever he tried to put forth a solid plan to do something, he had no idea where to begin. He had only dim recollections and horrifying memories that startled him back to the here-and-now with chills other than cold.

Aerith went very still. Her shoulders froze, her breath caught. The sunlight glowed from outside, and the dogs cavorted together on the top crust of snow, yapping and happy, never straying from Aerith's cave as if something deeper than loyalty made them stay. Sephiroth fed them his leftovers and played with their velvety soft little ears.

"Will you come with us?" he asked softly. "Lechku and Nechku... are those your names?" He fingered the dark collars around their necks with names stitched clumsily into them. Their fur was thick and rough, but by their ears it was soft. When he took a second look around the plains outside the entrance of a cave, he finally noticed a dark splotch and a rising darkness that he assumed was a range of ice-capped mountains. Was that the town the girl was talking about?

Suddenly there was a steadily increasing sensation at his temples. He rubbed his forehead, before he pulled himself together, and turned to face the young woman who both entranced and made him ache with stolen memories. "I suppose we should get packing what we'd like to bring."

"Are you sure you're all right to travel? I mean, you were pretty sick." She was standing near him, but clearly out of arm's reach. She peered at him, her eyes possessed a strange glow for a moment. "No, you seem fine."

So they silently picked together what they wanted to bring, put it on the sled. Sephiroth jogged alongside the sled as it went along at a quick clip, while Aerith rode on the side. Sometimes Sephiroth would hop on, but the dogs would tire quicker that way. They were much larger than ordinary dogs, which made the silver-haired man postulate that they might be tamed wild dogs from these rugged cold landscapes.

As the distance between the town shrank and the sun swirled above them, the pair spoke very little. But the bond of a strange fate was already there.

"Do you think the Planet brought us together?"

Sephiroth nearly stopped altogether, but his arms and legs moved instinctively, and with fluid ease. He was moderately tall. His lungs burned from the chill air, but he was warm, the sun and fast pace warming him. His coat was bunched up now and tied down on the sled. If he sweat too much, it would freeze and cause immense discomfort.

"I don't know." He kept his eyes on the town, before he began to slow to a trot. The dogs, panting, slowed down, and Aerith peered at the tall silver-haired man, windblown locks swaying to and fro. She still felt a trace of fear. The pain of familiarity, the ache of nostalgia. Something about him struck an ancient, silent chord that vibrated without resonating enough to tell her what it really was. It prickled at her chest and between her shoulderblades.

And they had an entire town in which to figure out what that chime of meaning came from and what it would portend.


	2. Chapter 2

Recently, in the white-blanketed town of Icicle Inn, each member of each house, from the very young to the extremely old, shared a dream. They slumbered restfully, and awoke simultaneously to the strange feeling that each and every one of them were privy to a vision that few would ever see again.

They woke with tears in their eyes, sadness and joy fluttering side-by-side in their hearts like moths. They felt their souls had been prepared for something. But no one could remember the very details of the dream. A wife and husband, who had lived in Icicle Inn for only six years, woke up in the wintry predawn light of their two-story home, trembling with the knowledge that they knew, unquestionably, that they had shared a dream. Though they did not suspect that others in the community had also, they nonetheless used the humble link of marriage to feel the dream still humming in their ears.

So that day, as soon as lunch was over, the two strangers came calling. The dogs panted and heaved, exhausted. Frost had collected on their muzzles. The enormous beasts laid down at once, sides heaving and pink tongues flapping from the sides of their mouths. The two humans stood - one short figure bundled against the elements and the other wearing nothing more than a thick insulated turtleneck jacket and long black pants stitched tightly back up and heavy, militant combat boots. There was a broad-shouldered man in a thick, insulated coat that fell down to his knees, a thick ruff of fur around the hood, shoveling snow away from the front of his doorstep. He stopped mid-shovel to look at them, distracted by a bark of one of the dogs.

"Lo, there!"

The young woman drew back her hood and let the sun warm her face. She stepped forward, unhooking Lechku and Nechku from the modest sled piled with even more modest belongings. The dogs didn't seem to mind, and she smiled at the man with the snow shovel.

"Hello. Um, we've just arrived, and we're looking to sell some things for some money." She regretted not bringing something she thought was of value - some of her pots and pans - but they were too heavy. In the end, she had selected only a few pretty and useful things. Some tools, some items. She had her stave still tied on top of the runners of the little dogsled. Sephiroth had no belongings to speak of besides the clothes on his back. All in all, when she spoke, the man found her request reasonable and understandable: not much to do in an ice-bound town like this unless one was planning on trading. But when he took in their appearance, her words began to sound well-rehearsed and for the most part, lacking substance. They had almost nothing to trade that people here did not have.

All this played out in the man's mind - because living in a snowbound area gave a man plenty of time to practice logical thinking. The look of them, from the doe-eyed little woman to the intimidating man with silver hair, made the dream from before stir like a warm sleepy animal.

"There's something familiar about you." The man said, pulling down his scarf. His beard was a vivid shade of red, and every inch of him tickled with suspicion, but he shook it off, trying to pretend that bad things no longer happened in this town. Shinra would never come here again, because it was now all about the World Restoration Organization. The WRO took care of everyone to the best of its ability, making many promises to undo the knots in every community stricken by Shinra's trail of lies, deceit, and heartbreak.

But that was all high-brow stuff that had nothing to do with the man.

He continued, "All right then. You two don't look anything like traders to me. But because you look about as harmful as a bucket of snow, I'm going to give you a helping hand. Come on inside." He pushed the shovelful of snow aside, wiped his brow with one mittened hand, then turned toward the front door behind him. "Hurry up, you'll catch your deaths if you keep sweatin' out here."

Sephiroth and Aerith shared a look, smiled and pulled their sled to the front of the house, the two dogs laying quietly and catching their breath.

"Those two will have to stay outside. They're enormous! Where on earth did you manage to get those? You could probably sell THEM for a pretty good price if you're plannin' on startin' out well off."

Sephiroth followed Aerith, who was now beaming with relief and happiness. It was cold, and she was not so forgetful that she had no idea what the comfort of a real house felt like. She knew that inside that house was warmth, companionship, and good feelings all around. That was just how Aerith operated; she refused to pay any attention to the sickening, falling sensation of dread. What if they turned them out once they realized they had no pasts, no identities, and nothing to offer in return for sharing the precious amenities of their home?

Just then, she heard a soft masculine groan of pain; her instinct flung her attention back to the kneeling silver-haired man, swaying on his knees. "Are you all right?" she cried, running to his side. She touched his forehead. "Oh, no... are you still sick?"

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know."

The silver-haired man covered his closed eyes with one hand with a shudder having nothing to do with the climate. Vertigo seemed to strip away all sense of up and down and throw it into a spin-dryer. For a moment, he felt very, very far away from what was happening. It was not terrifying but perplexing. He was usually in command of all his faculties. He felt Aerith beside him take his arm, and the other man lift him up, bringing him inside. The blinding snowblindness gave way to blurred softer lights, shapes, and a calming aroma that reminded him of

_flowers was the scent that followed her through the City of the Cetra. Yellow tulip was her favorite. She descending the stairway from above, her determination and willpower still startling and admirable. His heart sped up faster when he saw her eyes shining with the natural, human gleam of tears. To spite that, she was smiling. Her hands were folded, and the stave she carried was left behind. She probably knew she would no longer need it. Not here. Not where she was going._

_He still remembered his heart and the peculiar hurt. Mother would chide him for his soft side. Didn't she know she was about to die?_

The image and thoughts drifted, blasted away by the firm hand shaking his shoulder. His vision cleared away, the bizarre crystalline world beneath the Ancient City breaking way to the face of the man. He was laying on the sofa in the living room, a cool washcloth laying over his forehead. Aerith was nowhere in his sight. He was somehow deeply, achingly relieved she was gone.

"You going to be all right? The girl went off to help my wife fix you a tincture. You look awful, son."

Sephiroth's voice replied coolly, "I'm not your son."

"It's a figure of speech." The wintry man replied, wiping his own brow. As he turned away to go ask the women if they were ready, he muttered, "Boy, but he does look _so_ familiar!"

* * *

The road uncoiled in front of two piercing glowing eyes. Along the left side of the road, the beach seemed to spill out toward the sea and kept reaching. The constant humbling crash of the waves was drowned out by the high-pitched whine of gas-powered engine eating up fuel grade oil. It left a gritty, pasty taste in the back of one's mouth, leaving a desire for a gulp drink of clean spring water. But the only taste of water was the salty sea spray crashing from the shoreline.

Sunlight poured through fissures in the clouds. When Cloud fell beneath such a ray, it was nice and warm on his back and followed his path on the two-lane highway. The air grew colder as it drove farther south, toward the equator. The Costa Del Sol - that's what they called this place. It was so hot in the daylight, but the beaches here were legendary for their ability to soothe the spirit and soul. Except that ever since last night, he had felt exceedingly and irreparably restless. With the massive storage space in the side panels of Fenrir, he squeezed in a tent, food, water canisters, and several necessities when the road was too long to go without them. Several materia that hadn't yet made it back to the lifestream collected dust in the lowest compartment. That was probably one of the reasons for his recent spat of bad karma.

Last night, he walked outside of his humble little tent, pulled on his boots, and wandered down the road until he was pierced by a sudden brightness. It poured from a red spot cracking the sky, and the air was filled with burning feathers drifting from the heavens. The sea had evaporated completely, leaving nothing left but an empty white bottom with every living thing that had thrived there shriveled into dust. Numb and breathless, he reached out a shaking hand and caught a feather in the palm of his hand. It was impressive, might even had been beautiful, but seconds after it touched his skin it became nothing but ash.

Cloud had awoken afterward, taking deep gulping breaths. Crickets chirped outside the tent, still alive and heedless of the nightmares. He had crept out to get some air and waited for the dawn.

Now, lacking just a couple hours of sleep, the blonde hero was gunning toward the resort town of Costa Del Sol as if his life had depended on it. He called Cid to meet him there, to discuss things. Lately Cid had been the most likely candidate to listen to his problems; he was older, more experienced, and less likely to sugar coat any pearls of wisdom.

Within another hour, the town came into sight just as the indicator was dipping toward E. His tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, he pulled up to a stop, and walked the motorcycle into the parking spot by the Avalanche Villa, purchased years ago for that purpose. It was a private parking lot now, built in with a security card key reader. He left it there, then sauntered up to the front doorstep, sweltering now in the full beating sunlight. Inside, it was an instant relief - the AC was on full blast and Cloud's nose got a full whiff of minty goodness. There were hard candy wrappers all over the beautiful wooden table, some even in the unused ash tray. Raising a slender eyebrow, wrinkling the little scar just above it where he had nearly lost an eye to another silver-haired kid with a mother complex, Cloud swerved his eyes back to the figure seated at the table.

Cid, his graying blonde hair swept back as if he was constantly facing the onrushing wind, unfolded his hands and leaned forward. "Sure took you long enough. But you landbound folks always do." He jerked his thumb out the window. The Highwind was parked just outside of the town. In fact, Cloud was eyeballing it when he drove in. It was still meticulously polished by a heckled crew every night. It gleamed in the sun by the beach. Tonight Cid would probably bitch at his crew about salt rusting the paint job.

"I'm out of gas," Cloud said as he shrugged out of the heavy longsleeve coat. It was still warm. The sweat on his skin dried, and he knew he didn't smell the best. He'd probably shower when he was done chewing the fat with the old pilot.

However, it looked as though the old man had lost a few hours of sleep as well. "What happened to you last night? You look like crap." Cloud tucked the shades away, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Bad dreams." Cid shrugged it off, but he was shaken - badly - by whatever night terrors had kept him up. "Funny. Only dreams of the stars keep me up at night."

It was clear that the two had much to say and discuss. Who knew if dreams were a message from the planet in distress or something? And if a bunch of people shared the same dream, then who in fact couldn't say the ESP wasn't exactly real? Cloud had only just figured out the mysteries of the world and how it could speak to a person - or through a person.

"I woke up. Asked Shera once I tracked her down. Said she'd been woke up by a dream. She said she thought the end of the world was bad, but this somehow seemed a hell of a lot worse." Another piece of candy was stripped of its inedible shell and disappeared into the old pilot's mouth.

* * *

Aerith and the woman of the house, Anita, were putting together real food - bought from the grocer's which sat between a carpenter's business and someone else's home - and some medicinal tea. The two smells seemed to arouse her hunger and make her sick to her stomach at once. Aerith kept biting her chapped lower lip, anxiety gnawing at her worrisomely. Was it her fault that Sephiroth was still sick? Would he be all right? Would she be able to fix him, so that they could continue to...

Continue to what, exactly?

"That's a handsome though odd-looking young man." The wife smiled, a kindliness about her that pulled at Aerith's heart.

She reminds me of my mother, she thought, with a sudden image of a feminine energy embracing her, loving her, and whispering soothingly that everything would be all right. The energy went away, but the feeling of maternal comfort remained. It brought unexpected tears to her eyes as she stared at the woman, half-expecting her face to turn into someone familiar.

"I said, could you please carry this out to him?" the woman tried again more sternly, and this time Aerith took the plastic bowl with numb fingers. The silver-haired man still remained on the sofa, guarded furtively by the big man.

"I know I've seen this man before." His rough hands clutched into fists. "I just can't remember. Like someone from a dream." He gazed intently at the silver-haired man sweating and silent on the sofa. He seemed to be asleep. His closed eyelids fluttered slightly. Then, as if waking from his own dream, the silver-haired man opened them slowly and fixed them on Aerith, who stood like a trembling tower of anxiety. She carried the bowl of herbal soup to his side, knelt, and began to feed it to the silent man.

"Are you feeling better?" whispered the young woman.

"I had a dream," he rasped, as if he couldn't breathe. His voice was so soft, it ensured that only she could hear it. He sucked the broth from the spoon and made a slight face. "I don't know why. I don't remember much." That was a half-lie. He did remember being out in the snow. It wasn't that long ago, after all. But the part that he couldn't remember seemed just outside of his recollection, like standing at a window and looking outside through a foggy glass. Barely there. And a voice that came from outside that house.

That's what the dream felt like.

After he had taken in all the brothy soup mixture he could take, the silver-haired stranger caved in and slept once more.

"Perhaps it's just too soon for the both of you to be gallivanting over the snowfields." said the woman. "By the way, your dogs are safe and still outside. There's a piece of meat left for them so they won't start eating the neighbor's chickens." Anita pressed her hands against her apron and sighed, clucking her tongue. "So what are your names?"

The young woman chewed her lip once again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be terribly rude. I just have no idea."

"Well, you've got a name to give, don't you?"

"If I do, I don't know. I can't remember."

"And his name?" asked the big man, looming. It made the young woman who couldn't remember Aerith was her name uncomfortable.

"He probably doesn't remember. Maybe doesn't want to." She looked down again, suddenly very tired. "May I...May I rest somewhere? I'll just have a pillow and blanket here. I won't impose."

"We have a spare bedroom, child," Anita insisted, looking to her husband with a questioning look in her eyes. She obviously sensed more from his posturing and tone of voice than Aerith could. If only she could be that intuitive on first meeting anyone. When she stared at the couple together, she swallowed her anxiety. What if they kick us out and then we'll be forced to find some money and sleep at the inn? What if they won't let us in there?

Why wouldn't they? said a quiet little voice. You two are just strangers wandering through. Even if they find it a bit odd that you two are traveling alone...

Aerith breathed out slowly. "I don't want to leave his side. You see, we don't... we don't know where we came from. Or how we came here. I know it's crazy, and unbelievable, and the stupidest thing you probably have heard. But I don't want us to be turned out because you think I'm lying. I'm really not. There are so many things I want to tell you that I don't know, if it will put your minds at ease. But there's nothing I can say except what I know so far. I've been living in a cave for a few weeks, and finding things to eat in the mountains, and laying traps for creatures out there. I hadn't seen another person since that strange man woke me up, and when I did I couldn't remember anything. He never told me who I was, or where I came from, or what I was supposed to do. And one day, long after he left me alone, I got this feeling that I should go outside and look for someone."

She stared at Sephiroth's face for a long time. Whether or not he was awake was of no consequence. If he was, this was the first time he ever heard this story from her own lips. She sipped at what was left of the broth herself, though it was now beginning to grow chill. It tasted horrible and it made her head very fuzzy and fluffy. She continued coherently enough, "I've got nothing else to do but be by his side, because it's the only thing that I felt that I was *meant* to do. I can't explain it... It's like, something is telling me to keep a watch over him. So, can I... please stay here? We'll be gone by tomorrow if you like... but please don't ask me to leave his side."

The couple stared at her, listening to and digesting her story with unreadable faces. She hoped they were keeping an open mind. This was impossible to swallow on her own; she had a feeling they would laugh at her or tell her to take her fairy tales and stuff them, right before they called on the local authorities to have them escorted somewhere else.

Instead, Anita looked perplexed. Then a clear, perfect understanding seemed to bloom on her face. She took her husband by his arm and pulled him aside to another room, and there they spoke beyond Aerith's hearing. Even when she strained her ears, the medicine was beginning to make her even more drowsy. Finally the wife returned with a kindly smile, two blankets and a couple pillows, and made her a little place to sleep on the floor in front of the sofa.

"For now, you two will be our guests until we can find a true place for you to stay. A purpose to live for, now, that's something else entirely." Anita smiled. "Just don't mind the hubby. He can get a little overprotective at times of cute young girls." It was a harmless jab at her husband, because her sharp eyes sparkled with amusement. "Now you get some rest. I can see you nodding off already."

Without any argument, Aerith curled on the pillow. It smelled like woodsmoke and pine needles. They lulled her into a security that was even more painfully familiar than the woman's kindliness. Just above her, the sylvan man rested as well, with a thoughtful expression creasing his forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: My apologies. I seem to have forgotten to put little bars to separate each part. Sorry... XD

* * *

The sea's evaporated though it comes as no surprise

These clouds we're seeing

They're explosions in the sky

The largest issue Cloud had with riding in the airship was the noise. It was hard enough to concentrate on what to say to his old AVALANCHE members with the constant humming of engine, even if the Highwind was just hovering above Cosmo Canyon. He could smell the new oil fuel system working hard, since it was no longer powered by the Planet murdering Mako energy that Shinra employed to power all of its vehicles. He remembered getting a file forwarded to his PDA about some plans for solar energy that Reeve was perfecting at WRO's science division. It seemed plausible, but how the hell could anyone light from the sun into useable energy? If it worked, then it was perfectly genius and no one would ever need to suck a drop of Mako or oil out of the Planet again. Harvesting oil was devestating forests in regions like Gongaga and the wooded land near Cosmo Canyon.

He hoped it worked, because the oil smell was even making him a bit nauseous. No one had bothered to pick up Yuffie for the trip even though she, too, had confirmed a dream she had had. Mostly it was about salmon cream cheese rolls and scuba ninjas from the deep. She had woken up, full of a sense of strange foreboding and sadness though. She blamed it on the teriyaki the night before.

Others Cloud had called also said they had a strange dream. He didn't have to call Tifa very soon after. She had tried to put it off as just a bad dream, but it had stuck with her all morning until she called Cloud just after lunch. When even Nanaki had contacted them, it was time Cloud finally decided (being the unspoken acting leader of AVALANCHE) to call an "emergency" conference.

The only person he couldn't get a hold of was Vincent. It was very typical of Vincent to disappear for months at a time, and then suddenly reappear and sit down to hear updates about everyone. The ageless ex-Turk never seemed to notice how much time had gone by until seeing new wrinkles or scars or hearing life-changing updates. For example, last time he stopped by at Tifa's Seventh Heaven, he seemed shocked to see Marlene had grown a whole six inches; it was hard to tell from his stony expression. He did not seem touched by the fact that she and Denzel were extremely close.

But, of course, when Cloud needed Vincent for something, it was almost impossible to track him down.

Cid had flown to pick up Tifa, Barret, Marlene, and Denzel - because the two children had been the ones to convince Tifa to call in the first place. Then they bustled over to Cosmo Canyon to call Nanaki away from his guardian duties. Bleary-eyed, the group all piled into Cid's airship and held a meeting that very afternoon, sipping some of Shera's home-brewed tea in the hull's meeting room. Streams of dusty afternoon light flowed through the windows. Clouds chased the horizon. Nanaki sprawled on the new ocean blue carpet, his long head on his two massive front paws, tail flicking.

"Up here," Cloud thought, "it's like nothing below us exists." He was staring outside, remembering the dream and the weightlessness of being. It was the Lifestream all over again, enclosed in the darkness of the earth's crust. He shuddered.

Why was he remembering all that now?

Tifa touched his elbow, bumping his hand with the tea cup gently. "Here you go." She smiled, her long dark hair pulled into a tight spiral, swinging down past her shapely thighs. It was even longer now than he remembered. Had he really been gone that long?

"Are you thinking of how to get started? We've never actually been called together because of something like this."

The blonde gave a shrug. "I guess the first thing I should pin down is whether everyone had the same dream. In order to do that, we should probably talk about the stuff happening in it." He sucked in a breath to brace himself. "I guess I should start with myself. Since I was the one who called you all."

Everyone sitting, except Nanaki, who was still trying to catch up on the hours of sleep lost that night, leaned forward and waited with shining, dark-circled eyes.

"I was woken up early this morning by a vision. There was a red light shining in the sky, and it was burning everything to dust... But I was untouched by it. There were feathers falling from the sky, and it was the loneliest feeling in the world." He took a deep breath. "I don't know... feathers falling everywhere. It just seemed like something I probably saw before."

"Meteor?" Tifa asked reverently, quickly sipping at her tea.

Everyone else seemed to shudder a bit. Though the red meteor that had placed a crimson pall of doom on their Planet was long gone; the place where Holy had diminished it was given a wide berth by shipping lanes and planes in the sea. It was a memory still not yet erased from everyone's minds. Judgement Day was etched into their very blood.

"I don't know," Cloud said. "Maybe. But why would I be dreaming of that?" He held himself very still, trying not to think of it. "So. Did everyone else dream of something similar?"

"Scared the goddam daylights outta me!" Barret said, thumping his fist onto the table. "Like it was somethin' out of some movie 'cept it felt too damn real!"

"And you all saw feathers?" Somehow Cloud felt like that was an important clue. "Feathers all burning and falling from the sky?"

"It made me feel kind of sad, actually." Shera said softly as she refilled Cid's cup with fresh, hot tea. "I don't know. Like, something _terrible_ had happened."

"They looked like _those _feathers," Nanaki muttered softly. He shook his mane and lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. Everyone turned to listen. "Like the feathers of the one-winged angel. I talked to the other Elders about it; they say dreams are like the memories of the Planet. Sometimes we see things that have nothing to do with us and they can affect many people. Sometimes we don't know them for what they are until it suddenly leads to a revelation."

Cloud clenched his hands. "Not him again." Then he thought, almost hysterically, _Sephiroth again. Then he'll die again._

Nanaki spoke quickly again, "B-But then again, that's just my interpretation. Feathers could mean anything. It may be random, but maybe they could indicate something else completely different."

"But it isn't," Cloud insisted. "This whole dream business just feels... too close to home." He clenched his hands, glaring at the new carpet. Blue... blue as the Lifestream. It made him feel a dizzying vertigo.

"The question is now, what exactly can we do about this?"

"Maybe we can do an online survey about people havin' weird dreams!" Barret said. He flushed a darker red. "I mean, it's a shot."

"That'd take forever," Tifa noted. "But it's worth a shot. We can't be the only ones to be having this dream."

"Unless we're cursed." Cloud said to the skies, which were still blue and clear of falling, burning feathers, but his mind couldn't let go of Sephiroth's single wing bursting into a shower of black, beautiful feathers. If he had anything good to remember, it was the absolutely certainty that (this time) Sephiroth was gone for good, locked deep and securely in his memories where he belonged.

But that kind of certainty was a luxury only for the optimistic and the rich.

* * *

Aerith woke, more hungry and rested than she had ever been before. Laying on the floor all night made her back incredibly sore, so while she sat up and struggled to stretch, she almost bumped an against Sephiroth. The man had rolled toward the sofa, his face out of the sunlight, the blanket shrouding his body and keeping him warm while his hair spilled over the side of the sofa, dusting the floor with split ends. She sighed, momentarily shocked that she felt so sad that such beautiful hair had seen such rough times.

She then heard the creaking floorboards and turned, finding Anita standing in fresh clothes, looking wide-eyed and awake. The smell of something she remembered as coffee poured from the kitchen. "You two had better wash up. If he's still asleep, then you had better get a head start, young lady." Then she handed her a thick fluffy white towel and some clean clothes: an oversized pair of insulated pants and a long-sleeve shirt. The undergarments were much smaller. Still grateful, Aerith smiled and accepted them.

"Those belonged to my step-daughter, when she used to visit with my son." She smiled, remembering fond times. "We all used to get along so well... but for now, you can borrow them until we can get into the shops today."

"I'll go ahead and get started then." Although her stomach was growling, she stood up and stretched again before following Anita to the bathroom.

Hot water soothed the aches and pains she had been aware of for weeks. Living outdoors was hard on her, with the limited diet. She melted against the flow of water, before instinctively reaching for shampoo and soap, gritting against the sight of dirt swirling down the drain. She rinsed her hair, washed again, then quickly finished up before she used up all the hot water on Sephiroth.

Her skin tingled as she pulled on new clean clothes. She wanted somehow to burn the old ones. Animal skin and rough leather no longer felt right anymore. She used some mouthwash, before she went downstairs, combing her fingers through her still-damp hair.

"Now, don't you look just like a wonder!"

Anita grinned. Sephiroth was waiting patiently by the stairs, with his own clothes. Though Anita's husband was a big more barrel-chested, he was going to wear his clothes for awhile.

Sephiroth was staring at Aerith with a new kind of fascination, as if he had never seen long wet brunette hair before. Self-conscious, the girl hugged herself and averted her eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm ready for my shower now." He seemed like he was just as eager to be clean and happy-looking as Aerith.

"Go on then!" Anita shooed him up the stairs. "He had a little something to nibble on while he was waiting. Now you help yourself to some eggs and bacon!" When Aerith hesitated with a concerned look at the silver-haired man, Anita huffed, "Come on now, he's not going to disappear in the shower, now get a move on before everything gets cold!"

Aerith smiled at Sephiroth, waving politely before she was forced into the kitchen, thrust into a chair and glared at by a fussy woman to begin tucking in on the breakfast fit for kings. She never drank much coffee as far as she could remember. But she was sucking it down, if only to fuel herself for more bacon and beautifully buttered bread dipped in delicious warmed egg yolk.

Then she felt a steamed presence glide into the room once again, and Sephiroth sat down right beside her. She had been eating so feverishly she had barely noticed the time had gone.

"I only had enough hot water for a quick shower, so I washed as quickly and thoroughly as I could." His hair seemed to have improved in its glimmer, though it was still quite damp. Anita was drying the ends furtively with a towel and keeping it off the floor while he sat down and began to take what was left of the bacon, eggs, bread and some pancakes that had escaped Aerith's notice.

He put three on her plate when there was room again, pouring hot maple syrup on them.

"I think I'm finally getting full," Aerith said after an embarassing report from her stomach. She blushed and brushed back her bangs before they were mired in syrup. She pushed her plate of pancakes toward Sephiroth. He had cleared away his entire plateful in three minutes.

"Where's your husband?" he asked Anita, who was clearing away the empty dishes already and beginning to rinse them in the sink.

"He's at work by now. He drives the little rig that brings logs in, which burn in the fireplaces of other households who are too old to get the wood themselves and whose families have gone away. It's a service he gets no great pay for, but it is something he enjoys. Keeps him active, he says. Or else he'd be like those poor old folks." Anita seemed to fondly disapprove of his activities. It was so very early in the morning to be up and about as well. "He should be back by lunch."

Sephiroth looked outside, to the treetops sparkling with freshly fallen snow outside the kitchen window above the sink. "He's a hard working man."

"It'll get him killed one of these days, I swear." Anita dried off her hands, then planted them on her plump hips. She stared at Sephiroth's half-finished second plate. "Are you both finished then? Good! Now it's time to get some stuff done before he gets home!"

Anita went out alone, after taking their clothing measurements, to pick up some more outdoorsy clothes for the extreme cold of Icicle Inn. While they were out, Aerith and Sephiroth were left alone and, thankfully, for the most part, they didn't talk except when Aerith had decided to do the dishes for her host. Sephiroth slipped in to the little warm space in the sunlight from the window and helped dry, without even being asked. It was rather companionable and Aerith smiled, beginning to tell him about the cooking herbs that Anita was growing by the windowsill and the flowers that must have been carefully cut and transported from warmer climes. Afterward, Sephiroth found a hairbrush and Aerith helped get the knots out of his silver mane with saintly patience. Then she brushed her own hair and smiled at herself in the kitchen mirror.

It was soon almost an hour after they returned home, after Anita had gone out with their proper measurements written down to get winter clothes, before Anita looked nervously at the clock and tapped her foot on the floor with the bags resting on the sofa.

Without hesitation, Aerith came forward and declared, "Why don't me and Sephiroth go out and look? They can't be very far away or hard to find, if they're cutting wood. We'll just remind him of the time and tell him that you're getting worried."

Sephiroth nodded, catching Aerith's concern and willing to act upon it with a sudden and powerful conviction. If anything happened to Anita's husband... would Anita still let them stay and help out? It was logical that eventually, the unusual pair would have to leave. But until then, the desire to protect this new little family made him stubbornly dedicated to going out there and finding out what was keeping the man out so late.

"He's not usually this late," Anita grumped. "And you two do have something warm to wear at least now..."

Once again, Sephiroth nodded, while Aerith immediately went to paw through the bags. He said, "Don't worry about us. I feel much better than I did yesterday, and I won't let Aerith go out alone."

Aerith was pulling on her boots now; when she heard that, she paused and blushed a little. Then she pulled on the heavy winter furlined coat and pulled her hair up and tucked it into the hat, then put up the hood.

"Well, don't rush! The logging road can be a bit treacherous, since it goes downhill."

In a few seconds, the pair had barely pulled off the store tags from their clothes when Sephiroth hesitated, looking back near the shovels leaning up against the wall by the door, where he half-expected to see a weapon. He picked up the axe instead, while Aerith retrieved her staff.

The pair of dogs outside licked their chops happily with big bowls of roast beef chilling in the icy air next to them. They jumped up with their enormous fluffy tails wagging, licking at Aerith's face.

"N-No, no, I've already had a shower!" she giggled, pushing at his barrel chest. Sephiroth smiled, patting the other dog's ears. The man was very toasty and comfortable in the winter coat, but his hair was still damp even after all this time. He had it tightly tucked into his hat and hood. The axe felt uncomfortable and strange in his grip, but he doubted it would need to come to anyone's defense.

"All right, you two! It's time for work; will you pull this sled for us again?"

The dogs wagged their tails, standing side by side, while Aerith hitched them together. When she sat on it, Sephiroth stood on the end - and the dogs raced off, toward the steep hill leading down toward the icy forests below.


	4. Chapter 4

The dogs wagged their tails, standing side by side while Aerith hitched them together. When she sat on it, Sephiroth stood on the end - and the dogs raced off, toward the steep hill leading down toward the icy forests below. Daylight made each hanging icicle a spot of gleaming light, though they did not see too many since the weather rarely warmed up enough to let the snow melt that much. Sephiroth was alert, each muscle taut and feeling rejuvenated by the crisp wind tugging against his hood. It was... chill, and once again, he felt a kinship with it. How easy it would be to fall into a deep, easy slumber under the snowy pine boughs... or fall into the deep blue beneath the frozen ice of a lake.

He shuddered, staving off that feeling. He cherished the memory of the hot shower, however brief it was, and clenched his gloved fingers around the bar of the sled. "Aerith! If they are logging, then we should look for the tracks that lead off into the woods."

"I agree!" she shouted behind her, pointing out the clear chain tire treads showing up ever in front of them. The dogs were running as fast as they could to stay ahead of the sled, but the steepness of the hill was becoming a challenge.

"WHOA!" shouted Aerith. "Sephiroth, pull on the break to slow us down!"

The silver-haired man looked for the break, and pulled the protruding wooden thing. He felt a grating, jarring sensation that nearly threw him into the snow. The dogs "ka-yiked" as the sled fish-tailed sideways, eventually coming to a stop.

Unruffled, Aerith hopped off the sled with the staff in hand. "Right there!" She walked into the trees, following the tire tracks, where trees had been cut away, leaving nothing but snow-covered stumps that resembled pure white sparkling mushrooms.

Sephiroth sighed as he gripped the wood-cutter's axe and stalked behind her. "Wait. I should go ahead."

"Why?" Aerith said, pulling her hood back to let the sun warm her face. "Do you have a bad feeling?"

"Something like that." He glared through the trees, his smoky green eyes narrowed. "I see the truck."

It was an old Shinra commercial model, he judged, but refitted completely with a gas-powered combustion engine. It was retrofitted as well with chains on the tires to increase traction in the treacherous snow. There was a lot of wood piled in the truck's bed, but there were no tie-downs.

"Hello!" Aerith called plaintively, cupping her mouth with her mittens. "Is anyone here?"

Sephiroth scanned the empty treeline, what was left of hard work also hiding whatever happened. He explored carefully but did not stray far from Aerith as she called into the trees, stepping carefully over footprints in the snow. A struggle here? Or just a slip on the ice beneath it? He gritted his teeth; the way this felt was so wrong, so completely wrong. The emptiness in the air was more disturbing than the certainty that something happened.

And something had. Aerith stopped calling eventually and joined him by his side.

"There was more than one person, right? I see three sets of footprints, and they're all going this way."

A treebranch snapped in front of them. A piece of the forest appeared to simply _move_ in front of them; a mouth gaped open and revealed rows and rows of jagged, broken of teeth. The shifting forest of trees became moving bones; Sephiroth immediately felt the warmth drain from inside his veins, at first filling him with painful chill... and then a certain, deadly calm.

"Sephiroth... We sh-should run away!" Aerith murmured. "This isn't a good place to be right now!"

The bone dragon looked imposing, but at a quick inspection, it was more or less entangled in the trees itself, and was immensely weakened from harrowing attacks from other monsters and a journey from deep inside the crater far beyond these woods. Its scream sounded of rough sandpaper on their ears.

"_No, Cloud. It's our job to defeat any monsters we find_." Sephiroth seemed ignorant of the words he said. It felt less like a challenge and more like duty to face off with this thing. "I'll do this. Go and find the logging men."

The skeletal dragon reared its head, a black cloud of smoke pouring from its maw. Sephiroth heard Aerith's rapid footsteps as she stumbled away as fast as she could through the snow, darting around the killzone of the smoke. Sephiroth waited until the creature's jaws expanded to release its deadly gaseous breath; then he hurled the axe. It windmilled through the air and made a solid wooden smack as it landed in the roof of its boney mouth. The gaseous air exploded into mid air, the creature unable to close its mouth, and its screech was panicked. Sephiroth darted forward and between its legs. With one solid kick, he broke the fragile knee joint and sent the beast falling onto its side. Sephiroth scampered from underneath it, rolling through the snow. It's whiplash tail caught him under the stomach and sent him reeling even farther, knocking his breath out.

The dragon moved painstakingly toward him on what was left of three legs, hissing and biting around the ax. It was only a matter of seconds before it would simply step on Sephiroth and decide to crush him. For a moment, the silver-haired man was frozen... but at the last moment, he used a nearby tree stump to hide near as the dragon's foot came careening down. He was consumed in the dragon's shadow, but the claws scrabbled at the stump and not Sephiroth's body. He clambered on top of the boney claw, then jumped from there to the dragon's shoulder. He scaled the neck and clung to the defensive horns at its neck just as soon as it began to swing it wildly about, screaming once again. He could just see the axe coming loose, hanging from the corner of its mouth. If he could retrieve it... then he would have a weapon and a way to finish off this thing at last.

With a charring shake, the dragon twisted its head, trying to bite at the obtrusive human gnat hanging from its body. Sephiroth fell - half on purpose - onto its face and reached boldly between its teeth to snatch it free. The axe nearly fell out of his hand, as it was pretty unwieldy for anything but cutting wood...

Sephiroth switched the grip to both hands and swung down at the bone dragon's spinal column with all his strength. The axe was good craftsmanship, but he felt it breaking even as it cleaved through bone and severed the dark Lifestream coursing through its battered frame.

With a crash, the dragon fell to the ground after its head had struck the snow, the light fading from its eyesockets.

Sephiroth landed in the snow some distance away, tossing the broken axe aside.

Aerith, from somewhere far away, screamed. Sephiroth spun around to find out where it had come from, but wolves appeared from between the trees, attracted by the smell of blood and the sounds of battle. They were huge gray slavening lupines, bristling with hunger and blind rage.

What was causing all these monsters to attack him?

"Help me!" Aerith shrieked again. Sephiroth was unarmed now, and without a weapon... he couldn't get to her.

"I'm coming!" Sephiroth shouted, but he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. He grit his teeth, a furious feeling pounding under his temples. His skin tingled from the heat of battle, before a new sound assaulted his eardrums. A rapid succession of cracking thunder shook freshly fallen snow from the trees around him, causing him to jerk forward as if he meant to rush past the wolves.

The animals fell one by one, a fine mist of vermillion puffing out silently from their bodies; when they were naught but steaming corpses in the snow, a red winged man descended from the treetops and stood in front of Sephiroth in the midst of the dead wolves.

Aerith ran out from the trees at last, apparently freed from the wolves, thankfully with an injured man who was Anita's husband. He limped and she had lent him her staff to lean on, which was why she had no weapon to defend herself with before.

The figure stiffened at the sight of the new figures, but swung the lethal firearm at Sephiroth. Deadly but silent, this figure unhaltingly glared down the darkened barrel of the gun and put his better foot forward. "Don't move."

Sephiroth didn't.

"What's going on here? Who the hell are you?" Anita's husband interceded as he stumbled forward. "Put down your weapon! That man is harmless!"

"I'm afraid that I must disagree with you. Don't you know who this man is?"

"I don't, I admit. But he just tried to save my life and possibly the lives of all the people at Icicle Inn!"

The man in the red, tattered cloak that had been mistaken for blood-stained wings lifted a metallic golden clawed hand and lowered his scarf. His lips were an unhealthy shade of blue, and his skin almost porcelaine white. Most disturbing were the red eyes.

"This man is more dangerous to everyone in the entire world. He may have killed that dragon because it was simply in his way." His eyes narrowed at Sephiroth. "This is the one who summoned Meteor with Black Materia and almost destroyed everything."

Anita's husband halted in place. Aerith caught hold of his arm so he wouldn't fall, but she could not see the focus in his face become almost a laser-focused on the intense eyes the color of the Lifestream. They seemed almost to be glowing.

"Why would you bother with these people?" Vincent wondered out loud, as if the thought puzzled him.

"Please don't shoot!" Aerith cried.

The shooter didn't bat an eyelash.

"Why don't we all just calm down and get back to the truck?" Anita's husband said calmly and rationally. He dragged his feet through the snow using Aerith's sturdy staff.

Instinct boiling under his pale white skin, the shooter whipped the gun toward the woman and the man, distrusting her very existence and his supposed injury.

Sephiroth disappeared.

The red-coated shooter caught the movement, only barely able to redirect the blow from Sephiroth's fist to the shoulder, which still jarred his aim. Sephiroth's other hand grabbed the old worn muzzle skyward. It still felt hot to the touch even through his glove. Vincent hissed but that was all and Sephiroth simply stared with that same glowing silent rage that above all else proved that he was indeed the man in black who had haunted the shores of this world for far too long.

But instead of the pain of a sudden injury, all he heard was a stiff, barely veiled disgust: "You will not threaten Aerith or that man again, nor anyone else I know, ever again. Is that clear?" He stole a little breath. "I don't know who you are... or who you believe me to be."

"You're Sephiroth. You were concieved by a man named Hojo and a woman... named Lucrecia Crescent." Vincent spoke quietly and concisely. "You honestly don't remember?"

"I didn't even know my own name until today." Almost a whisper.

Vincent visibly relaxed slowly. Sephiroth, if he was the same, relaxed a similar fraction, and Aerith rushed over, pulling them apart like two sticky branches, for the two men still seemed tense when faced with each other.

The unfamiliar rhythmic 'wuff' filled the air and grew louder and closer. There were voices shouting through the trees; Vincent pulled back a little, holstering the weapon without speaking another word on the subject. Aerith clung to Sephiroth's arm, drawing her hood up over her face to shield it from the snow cutting against her cheeks. A helicopter with the letters WRO emblazoned clearly on its side swung into view above the trees, and soldiers in WRO uniforms approached with their weapons trained now on both Sephiroth and Aerith, although at the moment it was not clear who had called these men. They were dressed in white and gray uniforms, winter insulated, and wore orange-red berets on their heads, bearing automatic weapons.

Sephiroth simply placed his hands at his sides and closed his eyes, calming his breathing. His chest felt hollow, even though his heart was racing inside it. Then an important looking fellow took off his helmet and tugged down his scarf to speak clearly.

"You two. Please don't put up a fight. You're in our custody now."

"Who are you?" the silver-haired man asked with icy calm.

"I'm a lieutenant with the World Regenesis Organization. It's our duty to prevent threats against the Planet, which you have been deemed as a high priority. We were tipped off by Vincent Valentine that two strangers had come into Icicle Inn... and that one of you looked like a suspect, lately filed away Deceased. You're both under arrest." Though he spoke clearly and bravely, he stared at Sephiroth as if he was truly seeing the ghost of a demonic madman.

With bristling weapons leveled at Sephiroth, and with no real weapon and materia to defend himself, the pair really had no other choice. So, without breaking the stiff and icy layer that had somehow sealed over his vacant expression, Sephiroth tightly held onto Aerith's hand until they had to be cuffed to the inside of the helicopter and flown away to another location.

Aerith hollowly wept a little when she believed Sephiroth wasn't paying attention. "It isn't true, right? They'll have to let us go. We've done nothing wrong... they'll have to believe us, like Anita and her husband did!"

It was hard to hear her, but he in fact was trained on her every movement. It was the only thing that hadn't changed in the darkness. Maybe he deserved this. He wanted so badly to go to sleep again. "I think we don't have a choice. If I've done... something terrible, then it would be best that I understand before I act."

Aerith bit her tongue to keep herself from hysteria. After all, Sephiroth was purely being the brave one. It was hard to understand anything... especially since she could barely remember what had gone on before waking up out in the snowfields.

"Where do you think they'll be taking us?"

Then, finally, like a sunbeam through the ice, he smiled. He took her hand in his gloved one. "I hope somewhere warmer than here. Then maybe we can finally get some sun!" He knew enough now, remembered enough, that though it was cold here, it couldn't be frozen all over the Planet. So he was looking forward to at least shedding some of these heavy clothes. So did Aerith - and that smile and his light happy tone made her feel that much better.


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to say how much time had passed once he had finished speaking to everyone; he was in one of the crew cabins on the Highwind as it cruised at a comfortable atltitude of twenty-thousand feet. Everyone agreed that they were tired and catching some Z's was probably the best course of action at this point. He sprawled on the cabin alone, his toned arms tucked behind his gold unruly mane, collecting oxygen. His eyes were closed, feeling the rays of sun dancing against his eyelids. When was the last simple nap he had taken just for the sake of getting rest? And when had he started to feel old?

He felt the phone vibrating against his thigh before it started to ring; he usually could grab it before the noise began. But he had to fumble, since his clothes had gotten wrinkled from tossing and turning. When he finally managed to grunt into the reciever, "Cloud here," he was annoyed that he had to go through so much trouble.

"Cloud. It's good to hear you answer this time."

"You tried calling before?" Cloud said, misunderstanding.

"No," Reeve answered sheepishly, "I meant... it's a relief to hear about you being sociable. Unfortunately, I wish I had a more social reason to call you, Cloud."

Cloud regained his feet and looked outside, down below at the town beneath the airship. There was Nibelheim, not exactly glowing like a pearl in the dark bosom of mountains around it. It was almost being consumed. Fortunately, those very mountains proved profitable. There was a new precious gem mining activity that was paying for all the damages incurred by the events that now seemed to precede six years ago. New lives being shaped day by day...

"It's... there's some kind of new development. My militia is telling me that there was a tipped phone call... indicating a suspicious character in a black cloak entering town with a strange girl. They've apprehended someone who... who seems to be very much like Sephiroth, and the girl with brown hair and greenish eyes."

He neatly decided that the dream had nothing to do with this. That this was an isolated incident. Reeve always called him about things like this, always apologetic, as if he knew Cloud would come to the rescue but knew it wasn't his favorite job in the world.

"Sephiroth...?" Cloud tried to still the sudden painful racing of his heart. If this culprit only 'looked' like Sephiroth, then maybe it was simply one of those Sephiroth-worshipping fanatics. They gathered once in awhile in town courtyards, usually in Nibelheim the supposed place of his "Awakening", dressed in black cloaks, their hair bleached and prophesizing his return once again. "The One-Winged God to set us free from the terrorism of the Planet will return..."

There were some children who never quite let go of that day when Kadaj had baptised them in black water. Maybe all of that beautiful rain couldn't wash away their sins afterward.

_I'm starting to sound poetic_, Cloud thought.

"I hope-" Reeve Tuesti began again, but amended, "I am sure this is just another crazed fanatic look-alike. But, in case this isn't, because Vincent is involved-"

"Vincent?"

"Yes. He's en route to join us in Midgar with the, ah, refugees. That's just a short flight for the great Highwind, right?"

"So instead of suspects, they're refugees now?"

"I don't know what they are at this point. I'm sure everyone's waiting for you to make that call, Cloud."

_Of course they are_. "All right. I'll tell Cid to make way and see you there in...?"

"Three hours. Our mode of transportation isn't as swank as an airship, but I'm sure we'll manage after we refuel." Reeve sounded relieved that Cloud had agreed. Then again...

"On one condition. It's YOUR responsibility to make sure nothing ridiculous happens. No mobs, no crazy people... I want NO ONE to know other than your men that Sephiro...that this guy is there. It's not my job to break up a riot, and I won't do it."

"I remember the last time," Reeve agreed flinchingly. "Lots of angry folks with injuries..."

Cloud turned away from the window. "Are we done?"

"Succinct as usual. Yes, I believe I had better let you prepare for your little flight."

"Wait," Cloud said. "Have you... Have you had any strange dreams lately?"

Reeve gave a thoughtful hum. "I...I don't remember exactly, but my sleep hasn't been exactly restful."

"Before you heard about this new Sephiroth?" Cloud prodded. "Any nightmares? ...Visions?"

"What are you really getting at?" Reeve demanded gently. "You sound almost hysteric."

"It's nothing. I just wanted to know about something." Cloud quickly added, "Well, I'd better tell Cid to get this airship moving. I'm sure your men'll give you an update on what's going on as soon as it's been said and done."

"A-All right. Cloud. Please don't keep anything from us. I know you feel as if you have to take this on alone every time. But if it's more than you can handle, we ARE here. Small comfort, I know."

The tenderness in Reeve's voice made Cloud swallow hard and his eyes almost burn. Why did everyone always think it was like Cloud was martyring himself for their sake? The only thing Cloud tried to do for them was protect them, and at the same time, stay out of their hair. Even if it hurt Tifa...

"Thanks," Cloud replied anyway. He hung up, sliding the phone back into its clip-on carrier. He was determined not to act on his purest instinct. Whenever he saw that unmistakable mane of hair, his blood pressure shot up and everything muscle in his body clenched tight for a battle.

He walked quickly to the airship's engine room, blinking into the bright sunlight pouring through the bullet-proof, three-inch thick glass opening to the outside world above and all around. Cid was yelling at his crewmen to do something about a fluctuation in the thrust-ratio booster manifold. It made absolutely no sense to Cloud, but he trusted in Cid's knowledge of such things simply because somehow, all that yelling and fiddling with mechanics kept them all from crashing explosively to the ground.

"Cid," Cloud called.

The white-haired pilot shot up, snapping, "What the HELL do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"We have to go to Midgar."

"Why the hell for?"

"It's important. There's someone I have to meet there, who might be able to account for the... the events going on lately." He didn't want to say it out loud, in front of Cid's crew, that their captain had been plagued by a nightmare. He stared at Cid firmly, his Mako blue eyes unfaded with time, daring him to challenge the order.

Cid huffed and stamped impatiently, before he rolled his shoulders in frustration. "All right, you stubborn jackass. If that's the way you want it." He swung around and he began to healthily bark commands at the others. The way he used to smoke so much, one would think he could no longer raise his voice. But so many exceptions to so many rules existed, Cloud hardly dared to think about it too long. All he cared about was getting himself and Fenrir to Midgar in one piece, and completing the messy business of dealing with a fanatical Sephiroth look-alike and his silly girlfriend.

* * *

Sephiroth and Aerith were forced to sleep while being watched by those silent, masked soldiers in their uniforms. It was becoming warmer and warmer in the helicopter in spite of the elevation. When Sephiroth coolly and politely requested that they remove their coats to cool off, the men acquiesced; they removed the coats for them, with guns pointed sternly in their direction. Aerith was blushing, hugging herself in the event that the men had lecherous intentions. But they removed the heavy winter coats without offense, and they sat down again, comfortable in the noisy darkness.

Two hours passed, in between lapses of drowsing and half-alertness. Finally the helicopter had to stop in a little remote landing pad on an island between Midgar's continent and Bone Village; it was a planned stop, and Aerith rubbed at her jaw by her ears as they descended for the first time in several hours. It was a long process; the soldiers became somewhat edgier, closing in around the pair a bit. Sephiroth simply folded both arms over his chest and closed his eyes, waiting.

"What's that sound?" Aerith said suddenly.

A high-pitched shriek split the noise of whirling helicopter blades; Sephiroth's eyes shot open at once, turning to roll on top of Aerith as the entire helicopter pitched one way and began to descend even further.

Soldiers leapt to grab onto something. The machine seemed to stay upright, but its descent was now out of control.

Aerith clung tightly to Sephiroth, rocked violently back and forth. The pilot swung the airborn coffin back under control for long enough to gentle the fall - but it was still jarring, sudden, and threw several pilots against the walls or floor with a cracking of bones or splitting of lips. Sephiroth bounced against the side of the ship with a groan, his air totally knocked out of him, but for every ounce of pain he felt, it was a little less for Aerith; his chest and arms were hard, but not as stiff as a thick metal wall.

The helicopter, landed unevenly, grew silent and tipped to one side with a groan before growing still. Amid the groaning bodies being helped up by uninjured comrades, Sephiroth was left to pull himself to his feet, helping Aerith by the hand.

"What happened?" Aerith said, shaking at the knees. She still sported a darkening bruise on her cheek, but that was the most of her injuries. "What are we going to do now?"

"We have to help these men get outside,"

"It was some kind of computer malfunction," explained the captain, who was bleeding from his nose. The rifle was shouldered against his back, still within easy access, in spite of his next phrase. "I'm not going to bother pointing my weapon at you, since you won't go very far in this condition. We'll try to figure out what caused it, and fix it while we ring up a new transport to get off this remote rock."

Sephiroth, since earlier in the trip after shedding the winter jacket that was still new-smelling from the store, now just enjoyed a borrowed shirt from the WRO and the jeans from before and the heavy-duty, insulated boots. Aerith was wearing similar, all-weather pants and a shirt, but she still felt strangely naked in this warmer climate; in spite of being warmer, there was still a chill and she missed just a simple jacket.

The island was barren except for a single-story building made of reinforced, rusting steel, a helicopter landing pad which they were not on with faded yellow paint, and an eerie silence. Looking back, the helicopter was half-submerged on the beach among the rocks. It would never fly again - not any time soon.

"There should be someone stationed here," the captain said, doubtfully staring at the little metal shack, tilting like a stubborn fence post in a hurricane.

"How do you know they were even here?" Aerith asked. "It looks so abandoned."

The silver-haired refugee was alone in that he felt something very wrong with this setting. His skin prickled and his heart continued to race in his chest, hollowly, like a small weak drum. His pulse was thready and his vision blurred. The last meal he had eaten was that morning, miles away in a warm house shrouded with freshly fallen snow.

An entire world away. But here, the sea smelled fresh but chill. He didn't offer a hand to anyone needing help, but picked his way across a narrow stretch of stones creating a path through the choppy waves. His licked the salt from his lips and frowned, his brow furrowing at the building.

"S...Seph-" Aerith called tentatively, for she still wasn't sure if that was a name he would even answer to, considering how little he cared for the way the man in red - Vincent, she was sure they called him - had explained his situation so coldly.

_It feels like someone is here_, Sephiroth thought. _Maybe it's just my imagination..._

One of them fell while carrying another comrade on his arm. The combined cry of the two falling men as they hit the water almost hid the sound of a door being thrown open in the distance, but Sephiroth was closer. His entire body went rigid, and the thudding heart began to ratchet out a frantic tattoo.

_I feel something... I feel it almost in my head. _ The shack shook and he watched as several people in black coats of varying heights and genders run out with weapons pointed at the WRO soldiers and began to open fire all at once. The weapons they held ranged in appearance and model, a motley crew if there ever was one.

"For the Reunion!" they screamed almost simultaneously, spilling from inside the shack - about twelve altogether, not including whoever was inside the dilapidated base.

Sephiroth, out in the open, stood frozen in a moment of indecisiveness. Should he try to run? He wasn't armed, and in front of those crazed, wild faces all staring at him with a stunning sort of - admiration? Awe? Fear? - he realized that not one of them were firing at him.

WRO members retaliated with an admirable organized defense. Aerith was tucked away safely into the still-heavily-armored helicopter shell with the captain, who roared orders to counter with lethal defense.

"They're madmen!" one of the WRO shouted, still standing as he ducked away behind a large boulder on the beach to give himself some cover. "Kill 'em before they kill us!"

"Get the helicopter! The infidels are hiding in there!" shouted a cloaked man who must have fashioned himself a leader. His hair was bleached completely white and his face was pointed and murderous. "Kill all of them - for our savior, Lord Sephiroth!"

When one of the cloaked fanatics fell to the ground, riddled with holes and breathing raggedly, she reached out toward Sephiroth who was merely three feet away. "Sephi...roth..." Her eyes were an unnatural green shade - contact lenses could not hide the dullness of death stealing over them.

The remaining eleven charged at the helicopter, kamikaze style, with most in the front laying cover fire. They ignored Sephiroth completely, although two stared for a moment, their faces a mask of passionate joy.

Sephiroth twitched at the darkness spreading around him; it seemed to consume the tiny island and he only saw red where light fell at all. He turned, holding onto a sword he hadn't remembered picking up. It was long, the only brilliant pinpoint of light in the narrow tunnel his vision had become.

_Aerith._

_You have to stop them before they get to her._

He said, loud enough for all to hear, "Enough, fools." It was again in that tone - that terrifying tone that bartered no nonsense.

For the first time, he was not the only one who only saw red. The WRO soldiers collectively gasped, held back, and ceased fire. There was no reason to shoot now. The silver-haired, sword-wielding demon fell among the cloaked worshippers and left none standing. Blood was washed away quickly by the incoming tide; there were hardly any screams of pain as they crumbled to the ground. Except one last, the twelth worshipper, who merely crumbled to their knees and begged for mercy and forgiveness.

"I-Is this not your way, Lord Sephiroth? Please... I'm not ready to return to the Planet. I have so much I wanted to-"

"Be silent, or breathe never again." Sephiroth held the deadly edge of the sword against the fallen worshipper's throat. She was a young, pathetic female - probably the youngest of the entire group. Sephiroth's eyes seemed to clear of the murderous, empty cold haze filling them. Coolly, he pushed her to the ground with his boot. "Aren't you all going to arrest her?"

"S-Sephiroth..."

The captain emerged. Aerith was huddling in the slowly flooding helicopter and hadn't seen anything. In the meantime, Sephiroth shook his head to clear it, stepping away from the circle of corpses so close by. The smell of blood and sea-water was nauseating.

And then he fell to the ground and remembered nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

AU: God, this is even shorter than the last one. I'm so sorry, everyone. I'm pregnant, and it really incredibly saps my ability to concentrate. That, and so does the summer heat.

* * *

Cloud selected two people to go with him in case something went awry. Joining them at Neo Midgar's brand new airport was Reeve, who had flown over from another town but was always in close contact with the others. As soon as the suspect arrived, it would all be over with in a quick, fair, judicial manner. Of course with Cloud in attendance, many other wannabes ended up in a quivering puddle of repentance, then giving the evil eye as soon as Cloud's back was turned. As if Cloud didn't know what it felt like not to belong, as if clinging to a dead hero's dream

The two people Cloud selected was Tifa and Red XIII. It was probably for the best that he brought the two most level-headed people on the ship to this sideshow of an event. It was going to take place in one of the WRO's headquarters, an office building maintained largely by donations of money from people who were helped through the dark times after the fall of the Shinra company. It was the most the people could do. In the end, it helped communities around the world restore order and sanity in their lives.

It was a clean, spacious area, with real flowers in the middle of a large granite table where Reeve was finally sitting. A pitcher of ice water and plastic recyclable cups sat in the middle near the flowers within easy reach. The window shades were half-drawn, but there was already a small crowd building outside. WRO members stood guard outside and inside, and in each corner of the room.

Cloud, Tifa, and Nanaki all came in to be seated around Reeve.

"There was some bit of delay," Reeve explained. His goatee was well-managed and neat, but his eyes were bruised from lack of sleep. "But they're well on their way now. They're landing at this moment, and escorted to our building, under heavy guard."

"Wait. Why under heavy guard?" Tifa asked before Cloud could speak. Instead he merely looked out the window through the blinds, his Mako eyes turning into hard materia.

"Something happened during a routine stop to refuel. It was a...an organized attack."

"That was fast," Tifa muttered, giving Cloud a worried glance that he missed.

Of course it was fast. He knew why. It was the same collective nightmare everyone had. One person might have dreamt it and thought it was crazy to tell others about it. But if a group had been roused by the same vision of a burning sky and falling feathers, it was not far fetched to believe a group like Sephiroth fanatics would be targetted by it and all draw the same crazy conclusion, make plans, plot to kidnap Sephiroth or... something.

His eyes narrowed as he stared outside, unable to reconcile all the reasons why it made so much sense. Of course... Even if this man wasn't the real Sephiroth, who was to say dozens of fanatical worshippers wouldn't think the same thing?

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have met with you and him somewhere closer." Cloud turned and addressed Reeve directly once more. Nanaki bowed his head, probably praying for the spirits of those who had died during that encounter.

"It can't be helped. We both guessed something like that would happen." Reeve folded his hands. "They were not prepared for such an assault."

"How long until they arrive?" the blonde mercenary said.

"Just under an hour," Reeve said. "Please, there are some rooms for you to relax in while you wait. The kitchen is back there if you're a bit hungry."

Tifa hesitated a second; then she took a few steps toward the double doors where the kitchen was hiding. Her hips swung naturally, limber toned legs making the woman appear to float rather than bounce. Her long chocolate brown hair was secured by a sparkling barret purchased from Nibelheim's gem store. Without really questioning it, he followed her. Nanaki quickly followed Cloud, eager to see what Reeve's hospitality had to offer in the way of vegetarian dishes.

"Cloud," Tifa said, turning around at once. "I've had this weird feeling ever since we arrived."

In the pit of his stomach, Cloud felt a hollowness. It hurt. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I see this guy. Tifa, you've got to stop me." His gloves creaked as his fingers closed into fists. "So many people are suffering already - still - because of Sephiroth. Why won't his memory just disappear?"

"Maybe we can fix this without fighting," Nanaki suggested as he opened the fridge with his paws. Then he managed to handle - with very gentle teeth - a can of soda. He put it down on the floor, held it between his paws, and spoke calmly, "There's no reason why we can't figure this out without bearing steel or fang. This is a matter that can be solved at a table, where Reeve is now sitting."

"But you're the one who said the dream is portentious. What if our decision not to act brings other people into harm?" Cloud asked. "You know," he added quietly, "I told Reeve I would not be held responsible for this, but in a way, I will be. I'm almost expected to run to help if Sephiroth is involved." _Or Shinra. Or monsters..._

_I'm so better off when I'm alone. _ He watched Tifa tuck a piece of errant hair behind her ear. If only she didn't love people so much. Then he could stay with her somewhere quiet and alone, start another place with a big vegetable garden to toil the daylight hours away in. And maybe when it cooled off, take comfort in her simple but profound capacity for warmth and laughter. He could never get over that.

Except she was not laughing much now; her lips were pursed with worry, and tired circles made fake crow's feet under her eyes.

"I'll put a stop to it, if it comes down to that. Violently." He clenched his hands again, feeling his pulse thud hard in his wrists and belly.

* * *

Sephiroth waited, clenched muscles all over making his stomach twist. He felt dizzy; ever since he woke up again, this time in shackles and chains in a standing position from a wall in another helicopter, he felt nothing but contempt for the men guarding him now. And then a sort of chilling red haze fell over him. He wanted to feel it, examine it from every angle, but the emotions and feelings pouring through his hollow heart seemed like someone else's. Butting him out completely, and forcing him through a maelstrom of hellish ideas and words that could hardly be described as 'sane'. Wait, wait and send the pathetic traitors back to the Planet. Don't be wrathful; be patient and you'll escape once again.

He felt so weak. That was most infuriating. Even this feeling inside of him was restless and impatient to be free...

_Aerith._ He shut his eyes, realizing he was breathing faster and harder. Aerith, where was she?

That thought almost seemed to sober the hatred boiling so violently inside of him. The feeling clutched him so tightly, its talons sunk deep into his heart, that the pain almost bordered on pleasurable. There was a taut, pulled thread of understanding. There was nothing more to do but wait, but all of his nerves were straining toward an action that had no outlet.

"Stop twitching," said one of the WRO guards quietly, with unfaltering discomfort in being the one closest to Sephiroth's clenching fists. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Minutes. Hours. Days," Sephiroth murmured, ignoring the bumps of descent. He was beginning to hate these small, tight, noxious confined metal spaces. He wanted to see Aerith. Asking about her seemed to be a weakness he did not wish to expose.

When had she suddenly become such a raw nerve?

* * *

With the taste of confectionary sugar coating the roof of his mouth and the warmth of a hard cup of black coffee sitting now in his stomach, Cloud turned to the doors leading back to the too-empty table where they were to judge the Sephiroth clone . A slideshow of memories had kept replaying behind his thoughts for a few minutes, talking idly and, guiltily, only a half-ear with Tifa. Finally she decided he had had enough; she was moving through the door, quickly followed by a slinking red figure with a flaming tail.

He took one step forward to reach to hold open the door. His knee locked in place and he tipped forward, grabbing the door latch with an iron grip and a gasp of shock.

All the warmth in every inch of his body seemed to have drained away. He was washed with frozen and if he could feel anything at all, his skin erupted in goosebumps. His breath refused to come after that sudden jolting gasp. Reeve half-rose from his chair, bumping his own refreshed cup of coffee.

"Cloud!"

"Can't... breathe..." He couldn't stop shaking. For a stomach-turning moment, he felt like he was falling through the floor and straight into the open maw of the Lifestream.

_Oh, this isn't fun at all_, Cloud thought. _I can't be having these fits now. I just _can't.

"Someone lay him down!" Nanaki said, his cold wet nose suddenly pushing at his neck. He jerked reflexively with a gasp to block him. The rush of adrenaline from it made his diaphragm suck in the air he starved for. Tifa's hands guided him back to his feet, out of Nanaki's reach.

"His heart is beating fast," Nanaki said quietly, and nothing more. He bowed his head and watched as Cloud sat in one of the chairs at the table, pressing his forehead in his hands and blinking away the shocking frozen feeling numbing his toes and fingertips. His head was clearing almost immediately, but chills came in waves. He was still shaking, still reeling.

_You only feel like this when he's near_, Cloud heard a painful murmur ring through the web of his thoughts, tangled as they were. He tried to shut his mind to it, but it continued unheeded. _Because you know he's only there when you feel him. That's how you can tell between a hallucination and the real thing._

Shut up, Cloud thought back furiously. I don't need you to tell me that.

"Are you going to be okay? They're going to be here very soon. Would you like me to postpone?" Reeve asked doubtfully. "You don't look well."

"Maybe he ate something bad from the fridge."

Reeve didn't dispute it, maybe because he wanted to believe it himself. But he knew for a fact that the food in the fridge was checked and pantry restocked every week by faithful attendants, paid for by very modest deductions from Reeve's paychecks. He wanted to make sure his guests were taken care of well.

The only thing Cloud had left to look forward to is the next hour or so. And if it went on for much longer than that, he made a solemn vow to the Planet that he was going to just walk away from this.

He raised his eyes toward Reeve and the guards around the room, who were now looking at him with that painfully familiar look of disbelief and pity. _As if I need anyone's pity any more._

"I'll be fine," he said with a little too much force. "Let's just get this over and done with so we can go back to our lives."

* * *

They unshackled the silver-haired man long enough to get handcuffs on him; as soon as the shackles came off, his body limned a terrifying arc as it sprang from being half-crouched on the floor. The first man to reach for him felt his jaw break once on the steel hammer of a fist. The man who was unshackling him reached for his sidearm; Sephiroth grabbed his elbow, twisted his arm, and bounced his head off the wall.

"I can let myself out," he said with chilling calm. "Where is the girl?"

"She's on another transport," said another man, waiting patiently by the entrance as the bay doors swung open. He could hear the helicopter's fossil-fueled engine cooling down, taste the alien air of another continent in his first deep breath. "Don't touch him, gentlemen. You don't want to end up like those fanatics."

Sephiroth didn't budge, all the same.

The uniformed lieutenant, who he recognized from the small island, continued, stepping aside. "Come on. She'll be joining you again shortly. I know you care about her," he added in a gentler tone. "So please don't cause any more of a riot than necessary. There's food, water, and a place to rest as soon as we get indoors."

"If anything has happened to her," Sephiroth finally answered, "then these precious lives of yours are all your responsibility." He stepped forward, joining him at the beginning of a new world. For some reason, his shoulder felt bruised. Was he injured before? "Lead the way, lieutenant."

The WRO lieutenant began to walk with him to the van waiting outside. He pulled open the door - not in the back, but in the passenger side. Then he climbed into the driver's seat, took the keys from under the top dash. "I'm driving you personally. It was a special request from Reeve Tuesti himself. That girl you were with is coming, too. She's right over there. Right behind us in that vehicle, okay?"

Sephiroth looked out the tinted glass window at the other van, similar but not the same. He noticed the unremarkable details of it, certain that the vans were proofed against bullets.

If those crazed people attacked again, would that be enough?


	7. Chapter 7

The room felt crampingly small compared to the increasingly inviting open air outside. Unfortunately, even after Nanaki asked, the windows stayed closed and even the shades drawn, throwing sickly yellow lighting at the walls and the pretty flower vase politely occupying the corner. Cloud wanted to pull his hair out, seated at the table with a half-empty cup of ice water and a bowl of soup steaming in front of him. As if he was dehydrated somehow, and liquids would fix everything.

If he had to choose, he would have had a stiff shot of the strongest courage in Tifa's arsenal. Or the strongest punch in the face to get him through the next uncomfortable moments.

_I'll kill him_, was the only thing replaying in his mind. _A poser. Or the real thing. It doesn't matter. For some reason, I... _ He stared at his clenched gloved hands and bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the concerned glance from the red guardian stirring a bit as he lay on the floor. _I only felt like that when Sephiroth was ever near me. My heart beats fast. I can't breathe. Like I'm falling forever... Is this for real?_

He wanted to run for the door. But his pride - and his responsibility - nailed him firmly to the chair. The only real comfort he had was the weight of the sword. How comforting was it that only Tifa and Nanaki were here? Even with all of AVALANCHE at his back, it still was most nerveracking.

His heart began to thud against his ribcage. Sephiroth never just came quietly, did he? The last few times, there was always an enormous fanfare - or a group of fanatical school age boys obsessing about the creature they call Mother - to his arrival. Would he really simply walk through that door and look him in the face and smile, greeting him as nonchalantly as an old comrade?

Nauseaus with anticipation, he roughly gulped another mouthful of water a little too fast. It hurt on the way down. He focused on the pain.

Reeve's phone beeped. He read the quick text and nodded at the guards standing by the door. The WRO grunts seemed to take that as a signal, and opened the doors to go outside and act as more escort for the honored guests. Cloud fought the urge to stand up. He couldn't sit; he did not want to be caught seated. His foot began to tap under the table and Nanaki put his nose down on his front paws, a ripple of tension racing down his crimson coat.

Two men entered. It took a second to realize they were the same men as before, preceding a man wearing no handcuffs at all. Cloud was ready to lurch to his feet, but he felt frozen in between standing and sitting down, giving him twin cramps in both calves and thighs. He felt a warm presence behind him identified by Tifa's perfume. With a bold effort of will, he tore his eyes away to give a critical once-over at the other man. He couldn't tell whether everyone's eyes were on Cloud or on the man walking in followed by another male who looked mildly important in his singularly decorated WRO uniform. He did not look like a man who smiled much and nodded at Reeve; Cloud saw that and all at once seemed to relax and feel more wired than ever.

Tifa slid the bowl of soup aside and a blob of peripheral vision offered a view of someone taking it away. Now he gave his full attention to Sephiroth, because it could not have been anyone else. He would have known by the slightest difference in skintone or eye color or the oddest misstep. His hair was lank and gray in this lighting, stained a weird gold, but he carried himself into the room much the same way as usual. His lips were taut and his expression understandably stony. He seemed to swivel his without ever moving his face to look at anyone directly, but he skimmed everyone's faces and rested on Cloud's without a trace of change at all.

Cloud scrambled to understand his expression. Was he unhappy? Was he amused? Was Sephiroth anything but full of smug self-satisfaction that in one way or another, he was going to ruin someone's day?

"Refugees," Reeve Tuesti started with a crack in his throat. Cloud didn't know he had even started talking until he was shaken out of his desperation. "That is the term we're using here for today. The other will be here shortly. We'll wait for now. In the meantime, I'd like to take this opportunity to offer you something to eat or drink."

Sephiroth looked down. "I will wait for the other." He folded his arms over his chest.

Cloud interrupted, "What do you want this time?" He stood up. The chair was stopped by Tifa who was standing right behind him, so he banged the backs of his knees against the chair. He glared across the marble table and slightly up at the other's unchanging face.

But change it did. He looked confused, which was the least Cloud expected. "I don't understand."

"What do you want with me? What were you doing out in the frozen wasteland?" He felt horrible but he threw his chair aside. Tifa cried out and immediately grabbed his shoulders with a grip like a bear. He let her, didn't throw her off, but his voice deepened as he started to raise it. "Who are you!"

For a second, his heart was thudding harder again. He couldn't stop himself from gasping a little.

Sephiroth seemed taken aback by Cloud's outburst, but it was hard to tell. He stepped back a half-step. The WRO grunts tensed, but the important looking man didn't move at all.

"Cloud," Reeve said. "Perhaps it is best that you do not upset-"

Sephiroth interrupted quietly, with a touch of frustration and, alarmingly, sadness, "Everyone... has been calling me by a name I don't understand. But I think it fits me. Nothing else would sound right." He looked at Cloud, trying to understand why he seemed so upset. "It would be foolish to call me anything other than Sephiroth by now."

Reeve's phone beeped. Cloud looked away, unable to comprehend or endure the look in the other's eyes. He wouldn't even dare begin to pity him. Some inner, cornered child in Cloud insisted that he was lying to get under his skin and infect him with his darkness again.

"The other's coming in now."

Cloud shook his head. "You... You honestly don't know?"

Simultaneously, Sephiroth turned around. At the same time, Cloud saw the girl walking in. He was just now accepting that maybe this was really Sephiroth - and that in the same line of thinking, he somehow had forgotten there was a female accomplice. Whoever that was, it didn't matter now that Sephiroth was here and he didn't immediately seem to want to put up a fight. But much of that man's games were of the mind. Staving off confusion and doubt was his first test, but he was floored by the young lady who stepped into the room, clutching her hands together at her sternum as if to keep her own heart from leaping away from her. Her eyes were green and her hair was brown, but she was no unremarkable dame caught up in an elaborate scheme. Cloud had memorized her face in his dreams - and ever since he saw her in the fireball that would have decimated Neo Midgar in its wake, he had thought he would dream of her every night until those visions, too, faded into the parade of faces haunting him every night.

"A-Aerith..."

She didn't even spare Cloud a lingering glance. She was accompanied by only one WRO operative. He was nice to her and she, too, remained totally unshackled.

There was that collective gasp from the room. Even Nanaki stood up, his tail ridge bristling with feeling and shock.

Sephiroth immediately swept toward her, the look on his face hidden by a fan of silvery white bangs.

Cloud acted on the first wild instinct. A boiling heat raced through his back, arms and legs and he clambered over the marble table, his knees skidding on the polished surface. Straight toward the silver-haired man. The room boiled into explosive action.

First of all, the operatives' guns came into their hands but not quite fast enough. The girl who looked like Aerith's own clone screamed and, unbelievably, ducked toward Sephiroth. Nanaki bristled, arching himself up on his hind legs with a deafening roar with all white sharp teeth catching the light. Reeve tried in vain to gesture everyone to settle down but it failed to diffuse the momentum Cloud had gained. He crashed through the two WRO operatives and drew on Ultima Weapon. If he drew on it in this room, there was no doubt nothing would be left of it; he saw Aerith disappear for a moment behind a curtain of white hair.

"Don't you touch her!" Cloud screamed. With barely an eighth of Ultima Weapon's length free, he suddenly felt a jarring resistence - Tifa had grabbed hold of his arm and squeezed, holding onto him once again from behind. "Tifa! Let go!"

"No, Cloud!" Tifa hissed. "You told me to stop you, remember?"

Cloud shuddered, realizing he could overpower her - but he would have to hurt her, and that was something he couldn't do. He tried to surge forward and he could feel her own muscles fighting to hold onto him. His fingers creaked and ached in the glove as he pulled on the sword's pommel to no great progress.

Sephiroth turned around. In both arms, he held Aerith - not like a hostage - but more or less like he wanted to protect her. And she huddled against his chest like it was a well from which she drew strength. Cloud let the energy seep out of him through his feet, sagging backward. Tifa held him. He felt her breathing hard against his back.

"Stand down, sirs," Reeve said quietly. "Everyone, please!"

Nanaki had leapt onto the table, spilling the glass of water, snarling and whipping his enflamed tail to and fro with enough cracking force to startle Reeve into taking cover from the flames by skirting around the marble table. He quieted down when he noticed everyone not fighting.

"Don't touch her," Sephiroth warned with a chillingly dark voice. That was more like the Sephiroth the blonde hero recognized. "No one touches her."

Cloud found himself hearing the same words not a second before coming from his own mouth. He shivered, taken aback and not quite certain how to proceed. "Let go of her, Sephiroth." _He doesn't look like he knows what he's going to do._

"Aerith?" Tifa said, slowly withdrawing her grasp on the blonde man. "Is that... is that _really_ you?"

The guns pointed at Sephiroth never wavered; the male was poised with a tensity one could cut with a clay wire. His eyes burned like silver-blue embers; the woman clung in his arms hardly shifted her fearful gaze from Cloud, but once her name was spoken, she stared at Tifa.

"I'm sorry," Aerith said, shaking her head tersely in negation. "I-I don't know... who any of you are. Please, just don't fight." Her eyes brimmed with tears afresh, making the entire image of the pair - Sephiroth, the man in the black cloak, and an innocent doe-eyed Aerith who gave her life for the Planet - jarringly incongruent with the picture that had already been burned in everyone's mind.

"Stand down!" Reeve Tuesti finally commanded, his voice rigid with authority. "Can't you see she's scared out of her mind?"

_He doesn't understand,_ Cloud thought hopelessly. _It's like the urge to wake up in the morning. To fight him, to push him back when he pushes me, is as instinctual as breathing. But he's not pushing._

He was relaxing slowly. Then came the sick, aching tired feeling that was suspiciously reminiscent of old age. Tifa rested her hands against his shoulderblades and her touch felt almost too much. He held up his hands slowly, knowing everyone was watching for him; nevermind that Reeve was in full command of these soldiers. It was Cloud's lead they would follow.

"Don't you hurt her." He leveled his meanest look at Sephiroth. "Or..." _Or what? I'll kill you again? It's not like that has ever stopped him all the times you've done it before._ The cynical part of him was hard at work. "Or you'll..."

"Cloud," whispered Tifa, standing beside him, her hands not closed into fists but held loosely at her sides and somewhat in front of her helplessly, as if she had no idea what she wanted to do.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. I apologize on behalf of everyone here who has done you any insult, stranger. This is obviously some kind of misunderstaning. We should do better by you both, by treating you as guests and not as prisoners of war." Reeve interrupted calmly and rationally as he gently swept aside Nanaki's tail by its middle.

Nanaki closed his lips over his teeth and bowed his head shamefully. "I, too, offer my deepest... apologies." Though if Cloud had acted further on his instincts as the Guardian of Cosmo Canyon had, the room would look and feel a lot different than it did now.

With Tifa at his side and his other comrades obviously stalwart on standing down, he had no choice but to at least go with the flow for now. He would have tried to pull the 'I'm the leader, I'll tell you when to stand down!' gig on them, but he never really wanted the title to begin with and it would have made him seem extremely petty. And for some reason, he had a sneaking feeling that it was not going well for him anyway.

"Whatever," Cloud decided at last. He withdrew from the quiet dangerous little precipice of battle and gave no one else any spare thought. He closed his eyes and trusted the rest of the situation to whoever wanted to pick up after him. It was safer this way. It wasn't his problem. Sephiroth wasn't doing what he normally did, which was cause a world-altering event of epic proportion. He wasn't even fighting. This was some other kind of Sephiroth who cowered on the floor with a young woman in his arms looking at him like a wounded animal.

"Let's find you both some clean clothes and accomodations," Reeve said quietly. "It is too much to ask of you both to commit to a meeting after such a long journey. Allow me to personally show you to your rooms. I'm sure this building is not completely business."

"Sir!" began one of the soldiers, giving a scathing look at Sephiroth. "Isn't this a little unorthodox?"

"Or crazy," muttered Tifa, trying to engage Cloud in the goings-on again.

"I'm sure you'll all agree that the alternative is much more unorthodox than allowing them the opportunity to collect and present themselves with more dignity than they've been given, I'm sure." Reeve plied at the soldier. Then he walked toward Sephiroth and Aerith and held out both of his hands. "Please. It's really the least I can do."

Sephiroth leveled a look at Reeve as if his hand were a poisonous Midgar Zolom's fangs. He shifted his weight awkwardly because Aerith was still clutching the other for dear life. She pulled at the silver-haired man's sleeve gently, nodding a little bit. Then she offered a painfully familiar smile at the man who was being the only kind ray of light in the room.

"I don't care," Sephiroth complied with a husky weariness. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, turning it away. "I-I don't know."

"Let's go," Aerith said softly. "I-I don't want anyone to fight anymore." She straightened herself up and took the position of guardian as naturally as if she were born to it. She, Sephiroth, and Reeve left the room in single file, with Reeve Tuesti in the lead. Hesitantly following far behind were the three soldiers, one of them with a slight limp.

"That went rather well," Nanaki remarked dryly. He licked one of his paws and hopped down off the table with his one eye flashing irritably after the group.

Tifa dusted down her skirt and huffed. "Cloud?" She turned, watching the other as he made for the exit. "Where are you going?"

"I need some air," he replied succinctly and added, "Nowhere." Then he bullied his way outside through the crowd of onlookers who had undoubtedly wanted to see what had caused so much buzz in the news.


	8. Chapter 8

Sephiroth pulled what little strength he could from his limbs just to follow the strange man, whose voice seemed to put everyone at ease. He was clinging to Aerith's hand, who seemed to now be leading him through the double-doors into a well-lit kitchen area where an empty cup of coffee was sitting. The man, Reeve Tuesti, turned toward and began to rummage through the refridgerator unit. As domestic a task as it was, he looked completely natural in his well-worn suit doing so. He began to list off items that might not immediately be familiar.

Then Sephiroth closed his eyes, listening to his voice, and realized that Reeve Tuesti was almost at the brink of losing self-control. The hidden undertones whispered of anxiety and fear. The man straightened at last with a chilled roast ham hank wrapped in plastic in one hand and was already reaching for the bread in the cupboard when Sephiroth reached him with his own voice and a question.

"Why does everyone despise me?" he said softly, his eyes darkening with considerable thought. With that particular word in mind, Reeve had no doubt he meant what he said. Maybe despise was the most accurate word possible in this instance. Sephiroth was despised; he was the bane of the Planet's health and happiness, including all those who dwelled with it. Despise? Perhaps loathe entirely.

"I..." The president of the World Restoration Organization had no idea where to begin at all. He slid one hand through his graying hair. Breathed some air, trying to drag some inspiration from the oxygen in it. "I can't answer that question very easily. It would take a lot of time."

The silver-haired man pointedly slid toward a chair at a kitchen table. He pulled it and sat down, folding one hand over the other before him, the portrait of patience. "I have seem to have nothing but time."

Reeve wanted to sink through the floor. The penetrating way Sephiroth looked at him reminded him of an age long ago when he was a young man just new joining the Shinra Corporation's ranks. He had only seen a photo taken of Sephiroth - the one where a hearty Zack Fair, youthful Tifa Lockhart, and a stony-faced Sephiroth posed before the Shinra Mansion for a single photo opprotunity. It was chilling to see that, even then, he was distracted.

If only Sephiroth had never been sent for that job. Wasn't it extremely bad planning on the military's part to bring Sephiroth into such close quarters with a horrible misunderstanding?

Reeve tried to take another breath and found it almost impossible. "Sephiroth," he fumbled, "I want to somehow protect you from that information until such a time is necessary for you to know. Just... please try not to take any actions or hurtful words spoken to you or Aerith personally. It has been a long trip for you both, and I would rather allow you some time to reenergize and find some peace."

"What exactly have we done that's wrong?" Aerith demanded in a shrill, wounded voice. "I don't care about rules. You won't answer HIS question but maybe you'll answer mine."

"Nothing! Nothing at all, except-" Reeve dodged her gaze, but it was difficult. She was going to step closer. Sephiroth went rigid once again, like an attack dog, very subtly.

"Except what?" Aerith persisted.

"You...You both... for the longest time have been deceased."

Aerith went somewhat pale. It was harsh, making the faint pink spots stand out on her cheekbones all the more vividly.

"For certain this is upsetting for many people who have sought closure with your passing."

Sephiroth looked just as pale. "Dead?" As if the word was foreign to him completely. He lifted his hand and rubbed the middle of his forehead, trying to digest this. "We're dead?"

"So it seemed." The man appeared troubled. "You both look very much alive." Reeve tried to gentle his voice. He wanted to approach Aerith, for she looked as though she needed comfort, but he would not dare risk the kind of response he expected from a dangerous, recently-resurrected mass murduring madman. He wrung his hands together for a moment helplessly. "Cloud wasn't trying to hurt you," he added to the young woman, who was now reaching blindly for a chair to seat herself. He pulled one out for her at the little table in the kitchen; Sephiroth remained rigid with what Reeve imagined was horror. "You... you died in his arms. He cared about you very much. Everyone sitting at that table cared about and loved you very much."

"They did...?" Aerith blinked back tears. "Somehow... Somehow I don't doubt that at all and it... it kind of makes more sense now."

Reeve smiled with relief. "It's all right. Cloud didn't mean to startle or hurt you. He was only trying to protect you - something he would have done for anyone he cared about. And you responded the exact same way."

Sephiroth looked up at Aerith, his expression once a stiff mask of hidden emotions. "I don't understand. If we're supposed to be dead..."

"More questions that, sadly, I can't answer alone." Reeve again returned to the food he had selected. "So, in the meantime, this time would probably be better served to see to your natural inclinations to eat. Aren't you both hungry?"

Admittedly, Aerith was bashful as could be. "Very," she mumbled, her stomach gurgling. She sounded distracted. Clearly, being told she was supposed to be dead had upset her. Reeve sincerely hoped it hadn't put her off her appetite. A few minutes later, the odd pair were eating modestly and slowly, meditating over every bite as if savoring it a bit more.

Dead people didn't eat or feel pain or cry. They didn't have fears or hopes or aspirations. Afraid to disturb them any further, he simply left them alone by leaving the room entirely, entrusting the guards to make sure that they would be well-protected in case of another attack. In fact, during that time, the man in uniform who had come in with Sephiroth had tripled the guard around the building upon noticing the growing crowd.

"I won't lose another man to those fanatical bastards," he said sternly as Reeve came up beside him. "I just hope that Cloud Strife can man up a bit and show a little more courage to act."

"It's not the courage to act he lacks," Reeve corrected. "It's the courage to stand down when all of his instincts are telling him to shred the man in there to ribbons."

Cloud walked down the boulevard next to the WRO building where Sephiroth and Aerith were now enjoying a little meal unto themselves. He was relatively unassaulted by people. It didn't take much more than a dark look to make people leave him alone as he gripped the hilt of the sword at his back. People generally avoided men with giant swords when they seemed capable of running afoul of them. The mako glow in his eyes put them off as well, even in this light. Were they burning? He rubbed them with the backs of his hands when he was out of sight of most others with somewhat shaky hands.

_This is impossible_, he thought hopelessly. _ I can't do this. I cannot not kill him. I can't just let him walk around either. _The blonde brushed a hand through his hair as his thoughts tormented him, his coat falling still as the breeze deadened in the quiet afternoon. He heard a step, turning with his hand half-poised at the handle of his blade.

Vincent Valentine, an Ex-Turk no longer in the employ of Shinra Corporation, stood serenely in the quiet darkness separated by the eave of a small glassware shop. In the fragile light, his eyes pulsated a gentle crimson as he watched Cloud take a step to one side to face him better. His red cloak, tattered and wispy, fluttered softly as if he had just arrived at great speed. His metal claw was hidden, but Cloud spied the familiar gleam of his firearm in its beaten, well-oiled holster on one narrow hip.

"Sorry," Cloud muttered.

"You seem tense," Vincent said softly. "You met them?"

Cloud nodded. "Yeah." Each movement felt unnatural and stressed; why were his hands still so sweaty? He didn't feel well. "Vincent, you were the one who saw them first." At the gunman's nod, he continued, "Did... he seem different to you?"

Vincent nodded slowly while he closed his eyes to step into the light. He folded his arms over his chest. "He claimed he didn't remember anything I told him."

"What did you tell him?"

"He summoned Meteor and tried to destroy the world. He seemed... sincere." For a split-second, a hairline crease split his forehead down the middle between his finely shaped inky brows, before it disappeared.

"I can't believe it," Cloud said aloud without guising his frustration at all. "He's... he's a monster."

"And what about the girl?"

Cloud shuddered. "I... I don't know." For some reason, he almost would rather the girl be some crazed cosmetic surgury look-alike than the real Aerith. The real Aerith had given so much already for the world. What reason did she have to be here again? The last time he had touched her, really touched her, her last air was slipping out from between her softly smiling lips, bathed in the eerie light of the City of the Ancients. Peaceful, serene...

"Cloud..." Vincent recognized the same agonizing pain in the other man, and in an uncharacteristic moment of tenderness, reached out to touch his heart. "I only see visions of the dead when I sleep. You must face them in your waking moments. I can understand the overwhelming nature of your fears."

"Vincent..." The ex-SOLDIER clenched his hands, sucking in a shuddering breath. "I can't run away, I'll be considered a coward." He shook his head. "Not that I care what other people think... But I'd consider myself a monster if I killed a man who has no idea what he's done wrong. At the same time, I feel like he's just ... toying with me. You know?"

Vincent laid his human hand on Cloud's shoulder, staring off past him into the street, watching a group of children running back to class at a small school. Children once afflicted with Geostigma, now healthy and vigorous, knew nothing of the troubles laid out before Cloud. "It may sound trite, coming from me, but my advice is simply to trust your intuition."

Sephiroth's face alighted before Cloud once again, illuminated in the stygian glow of flames as Nibelheim burned, along with his mother and most of his old friends. Not to mention all others who had fallen for Sephiroth's dark dream to come true. "Are you going back with me?"

Vincent bowed his head, already tucking his arm beneath the voluminous red cape, red like fresh blood. Cloud thought it was a bit of an eyesore, but somehow it still served as a sound dampener and camouflage. "I might not be seen, but I can promise I won't be far. I want to observe them. I did so in the frozen forest."

They started walking back toward the fortified building and its steps heavily mottled with moss and grass. Apparently the WRO couldn't quite afford to keep this particular building trimmed and neat. Or maybe it was an attempt to make it blend into the other homey-looking buildings on either side of it. Still, it was several floors taller and managed to look more important simply by looking older and wiser than the other, small-time housing units. Once Cloud walked through the door, the illusion of well-being he had managed to construct was lifted like fog in the rising sun. He felt the familiar aching prickle that denoted _He's here._

"I had better go find Tifa and Red," he said, parting with Vincent before it became awkward - as it often did when he was found alone with the young-looking gunman. It was so easy to forget that Vincent was probably old enough to be his father, but maintained the porcelaine white youth granted by some horrific experiment performed by Professor Hojo.

Vincent was already long gone. He must not have walked inside with him at all. He shrugged and shouldered his way through the tight hallways until he stumbled across Nanaki, who was happy enough to show him where they and Tifa were going to sleep. In the growing dark, he checked his phone messages. Only a couple: one letting him know that the crew aboard Highwind had heard about what happened and the second was letting him know that Barret and Cid were joining them in the morning after running a quick delivery errand to the Chocobo Farm. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand before he started exploring the kitchen, retrieving something to nibble on, although his appetite was diminished dramatically. His abdomen twisted even with a slice of buttered bread.

In one of the hallways, Reeve Tuesti met him. "The others are resting up. I understand if you would rather take them to rent a room elsewhere - no one around here will charge you for room and board."

Cloud would have agreed that the farther away he was from Sephiroth, the better. Except that he was worried about the woman. He still wasn't comfortable admitting it was Aerith. He wanted to talk to her... but there was something in Sephiroth's eyes that said he would have no luck getting to be alone with her.

"It's fine. Just point the way."

Reeve gave him a long look. Cloud assumed it was because he thought he would try to make trouble. It was assumed that Cloud could not control himself when it came to matters of fighting and waging war against his own demons; real or imaginary. He felt that prickling discomfort in his mind again. The kind that made him almost hate himself_. That's right. No matter how human I can be, some people still can't trust me. I'm too strong. I could have thrown Tifa through the wall and torn Sephiroth limb from limb. It was only because I didn't want to hurt her that I didn't do just that._

Reeve gave him directions. He stepped into the room - it was huge, a nice little meeting area with separate bedrooms for everyone. Nanaki, of course, would not take a bed. He sprawled on the floor with his head on his paws, his armaments and feathers jingling when he picked up his head to stare at Cloud with an eerie stillness that spoke volumes about how tense the Guardian of Cosmo Canyon really was.

"I smelled you coming. Tifa is unable to rest, so she's outside in the back. There's a lovely courtyard with a pond, very closed in."

"She doesn't want to talk to me." Cloud dumped his body into a chair, leaving his sword close at hand. Sephiroth was probably in another room somewhere, living it up in the amenities provided by people who by all rights had participated in having him killed - twice.

"She doesn't want to upset you," Nanaki corrected gently. "I don't know why, but there must be fair reason why she stopped you - including putting a stop to the gradual destruction of WRO property." The creature smiled, although Cloud wasn't in the mood to be assuaged by subtle humor.

"I just want to wake up and find out this was all just another nightmare." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Speaking of that... do you think we'll dream again?"

"If I dream of anything, I pray it will be only of chasing prey through the wildlands of my home." Nanaki sighed. "I can go without a few nights' rest, but I do not wish to try my luck. You, on the other hand, should rest as much as you can. We'll need you tomorrow."

"Everyone needs me for something," Cloud said out loud with some bitterness, and immediately covered his mouth with one hand. "A-Ah..."

"It's okay. Don't be afraid to be honest. I won't tell." Nanaki bowed his head, closing his amber eyes. "I understand."

Cloud was grateful he had a friend in the unusual being. He told him about meeting Vincent on his walk and what Vincent had told him. He wished Tifa was here so he could include her on the conversation. _ If she wanted to talk_, Cloud snipped silently, _then she can come and see me later. _Nanaki seemed to contemplate this; he and Vincent sometimes met and discussed boring philosophical stuff that Cloud was still too wrapped up in himself to follow. It was a relief that Vincent and Nanaki connected on such a level; sometimes Cloud was actually worried about Vincent until he remembered the gunman was years older than he really looked. He had decades of experience in dealing with his own personal demons. _Doesn't make it any easier though._

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed a deep sigh. It was not easier for Cloud. _His_ demon returned to haunt him again and again in the living flesh. He wasn't buried in a cavern of ice and water and stone.

"I'm going to crash," he announced. He stood up without another word and marched off to find an empty bed. There was a hallway connecting to the one behind him, various picturesque photos of locales where WRO has helped recover from Geostigma along the walls in between doorways. Before he realized it, he was stopped dead in his tracks when he came to a T-section, turned left and discovered himself nearly face to face with Sephiroth himself - in other clothes, straining a bit to get a brush through a length of damp silver-white hair. Cloud assumed that Sephiroth and Aerith would sleep in an entirely different segment of rooms. So their eyes met and Sephiroth stood in mid-step before he retracted that single step and, surprisingly, averted his eyes.

"Sorry," Cloud mumbled almost under his breath. "I'll - just - I'm going this way." He backed off, numb with surprise, and started the opposite direction at the T-section. The other didn't say anything.

"Wait."

Cloud waited, but he didn't look back. He was afraid of what he might do if he did. Then, suddenly, the floor rocked beneath him and he staggered sideways into the wall, barely catching himself with one hand against the fresh coat of paint.

Sephiroth lurched similarly, though with a bit more finesse - before he whipped sideways with the towel loosely clutched in his hands, staring intently toward where the tumultuous explosion had arisen from.

"What's happening!" someone shouted, as a soldier ran down toward Cloud through the hallway, quickly filling up with smoke.

"A terrorist attack! Someone's bombed the building!"

"Who is it?" Cloud asked, though he really couldn't begin to guess who. "Is it the men who attacked before?"

"Not men. nothing but disillusioned children grasping at straw idols." It was almost whispered. In the fast-growing panic of the building, Sephiroth's voice was suddenly the loudest sound in the room. Aerith was holding onto his bicep firmly, but there was a stern look on her face. Somehow Cloud was surprised at her bravado.

The building shuddered again. Somewhere farther away this time, but there was the quickfire ratcheting of gunfire. The woman cried out and clung tighter, dropping the visage of bravery for a moment.

"We can't stay here," Cloud announced, turning to the soldier who had run by them and stopped to stand nearby, reloading his machine gun and checking that his sword was still sharp. He looked freshly graduated from the school that Reeve had trained his workers in. But the steely glow in his non-Mako eyes made Cloud trust in his ability to lead them all to safety.

"How do we get out of here?" he demanded.

"The nearest emergency exit was that way, but it's all rubble now. We'll have to go upstairs." The young man pointed behind Sephiroth and Aerith to a wide doorway.

Without speaking, they all followed behind the soldier as they accessed the stairs. No one spoke as the gunfire and grenade explosions popped and moaned in the distance. They encountered no one and nothing moved until they approached the source of the explosions. There were four dark-cloaked figures darting toward them from a massive crack in the wall. They held all manner of weapons - from pikes to swords. All of them sported guns.

"Grab the Cetra woman." They whispered in unison. "Don't hurt her."

Cloud drew the massive blade. This hallway was a bit bigger, but it would be a bit challenging to fight these... whoever-they-were. "Your moms and dads are gonna get worried if you play bad guys like this."

Sephiroth held Aerith tightly and moved to put himself between her and the men, a viciously calm expression on his face. He had no weapon at all. But how had he killed those men and women before?

Cloud's taunting had almost no effect except that it made them shoot at him faster. In the narrow hallway, bullets might have hit them all - but with a jerking motion Cloud used the massive Buster Sword as an enormous shield. The treated metal deflected the bullets right back at the cloaked attackers or pocking the dusted cracked walls.

"Sephiroth!" they cried, in varying degrees of pain as they crumpled to each side of the hallway.

"Let's go!" the soldier said. "Quickly, this way!" The soldier hopped across the rubble in front of Cloud, directing them to the roof. "There's a helicopter padup there. Director Reeve will meet up you there. There isn't a helicopter pad up there now but it's the most defensible position."

"Protect the girl," Sephiroth said suddenly, thrusting Aerith at Cloud without speaking. Then he turned away from them all and vanished outside through the exposed hole in the wall as Cloud shouted after him, "Where do you think you're going?"

But he was already out of hearing range.


	9. Chapter 9

(This chapter's a little rough but there's a lot in it... I wanted something meaty to post with, since it was an important event. Forgive any inconsistencies for now, I need a beta reader so frickin' bad.)

* * *

The wingless angel descended. Even a simple weapon derived from the fallen wreckage around him, a simple steel pipe, looked magnificent and menacing in his possession. With rippling animosity, he stalked toward the ragged cloaked figures bearing sharp knives, swords, some even guns. He sneered, his hair whipped back by the sudden gust of fresh autumn wind. He was used to the cold. It was far and away but he remembered the cold that claimed his senses, his body, and trapped it within. He was so dizzy, but riveted by the power gripping his body. He was rooted to the here and now by the smell of gunfire, blood and sweat. These weren't just people; they were less than human. They were slugs creeping along the filth that humanity left behind, feeding off of dead dreams and hopes. He gripped the pipe tightly, a crippling hatred for them all seizing him by the muscles and making him move.

"Suffer," he commanded as he struck down a foe, ruining the face of a crazed maniac with silver streaks messily dyed into unwashed brown hair. Nothing annoyed him more.

As the first splash of blood struck the ground in a crimsony shimmer, there was a trick of light that turned the unrefined gleam of metal pipe into the silver shine of a blade whose far-reaching touch reaped death in arcs longer than a man was tall. It led to an endless river of terror, streaming tears of blood from the eyes of those who ran. They called him a murdurer, but in reality he was delivering them from their own inescapable sin. Something boiled inside him and each stroke that freed them to the Lifestream gave him a feeling that he was feeding it, and it made him feel... almost wholly alive.

_You're dead_, whispered an uneven wavering voice from his memory. Another, unfamiliar voice, snarled,_ Stay dead. Stay in my memories where you belong._

His dance of death reached an end, and in the bloody aftermath he stood numb and cold all over. A metal pipe clattered to the ground at his side and he swayed a bit as he tried to look behind him. Aerith looked at him in another memory with baleful, glassy-eyed hope, a gentle smile gracing her features as blood poured from her breast.

"No." He ignored the looks of frightened passers-by and ran as if in slow-motion. Injured or dying lay all around him, men and women alike. Some of them didn't wear any cloaks, unfortunate to be among the mass of worshippers who fell at his indiscretion. He didn't _want _to look at them, but he glanced at them all. He saw no children. Their faces were smudged like seeing through a greased camera.

WRO soldiers stood around rigidly like chess pieces jaggedly arranged along a madman's chess board. Aerith had no idea how this was supposed to make her feel safer. Her only comfort was not much comfort at all. It was the angry blonde man who had taken up arms against Sephiroth. Without touching her at all, he had laid a claim to her already that made her feel trapped. It was as if he was going to carry her as far away from Sephiroth as possible.

It filled her with mixed emotions.

She held her staff tightly, staring at the last place she had seen Sephiroth disappear - springing like a marathon jumper over the building and into a fray.

"He's not coming back," Reeve Tuesti said. "I calmly suggest that we take our leave now before more of them come."

"They won't."

Aerith turned to the sound of the only familiar voice she had heard. She saw him step over the edge of the rubble and into view and barely recognized the silver-haired demon. He looked like he had gone through war without a weapon. But he was specked with blood. This was not the same man she thought she knew anymore.

Her heart hung in her throat, heavy and pounding. Beside her, Cloud went very still. She felt him become protective. Anger boiled through him like lava. His lips were unsmiling. "Welcome back."

Aerith didn't know who to run to first. Cloud seemed to interpose himself between them without realizing he was doing it. She pulled at his arm and stepped forward.

"Don't." Cloud tried to reach for her, but it was Sephiroth who stopped her from running.

"He's right." A terrible confusion of emotions tumbled over his fine, bloodied features.

"Why?" Aerith demanded, her voice distorted with concern and more painfully, disappointment.

The silver-haired man paused mid-step before he joined them by the helicopter, the whirling blades tossing the edges of his hair. "Why, I'm covered in blood. You don't want to touch me right now."

She blinked. Reluctantly nodded. It was true; his boots were caked in some substance like mud, but maybe it was because of the puddles.

"Shall we go now?" Reeve asked, almost finally allowing himself a note of impatience.

The trio maintained an uneasy tensity between them as they clambored in the chopper. "I don't like these things," Aerith complained suddenly and rather poingnantly added, "They _fall_."

Cloud smiled a little bit.

"We won't be flying very far," Reeve assured her as he buckled in, nodding for the others to do the same. Only Cloud stayed vigilant, standing with his hand clinging to a safety ring on the wall as the helicopter took off. "I don't count on any of them being able to shoot us down with so many soldiers patrolling. That kind of weaponry is obvious."

"Their intentions aren't," Cloud spat. "What do they want?" He aimed this question at Sephiroth, isolated near the cockpit. The reason why it was so easy to speak was because this model in particular made it quiet for the passengers.

The silver-haired man, all bedecked in a borrowed uniform and blood, shrugged. "They want to kidnap her. And they want me."

"Do you think this has anything to do with that dream?" Reeve asked.

Aerith and Sephiroth had no idea what they were talking about. They were more interested in when they were going to be able to feel the ground beneath their feet again. Apparently their experience with the helicopter still left Sephiroth a little sore. For the second time that day, Cloud realized how exhausted and almost hollow Sephiroth seemed. Sephiroth rested against the wall for a moment, closing his eyes while he listened to their voices above the deep, quiet resonating hum of the engines.

"A dream that causes mass hysteria?"

"They all want you both," Reeve said, "for whatever perverse reason they have concocted from their imaginations."

"How many can there possibly be?"

"We won't know that until we know how many people all shared this dream," Reeve sighed. "And there is no way to know until we have some kind of survey - and who is going to admit to strangers about a dream without causing even more hysteria?" He looked at the quiet pair joined through only one common factor: they were among the dead and somehow walked among them. Sephiroth was not so unusual. What was unusual: he didn't seem to remember anything about his life before. But he was appearing more and more troubled the longer he stayed. Reeve bit the inside of his cheek as he wondered whether he made a horrible misjudgment in telling them the truth.

Aerith studied Sephiroth's profile. He looked different. Until a few days ago, she didn't even know his name, much less her own. But it came to her suddenly: how had she suddenly remembered it? Almost simultaneously, he knew hers. When he said it, she felt a thrill run up her spine. An unfamiliar urge to just run away overcame her. She wanted to find her way back to that quiet cavern in the ice and be alone and safe with her two dogs. They were good quiet company who loved her unconditionally as long as she could feed them. These people were unpredictable and insane, from the sounds of it. What kind of a dream would make people crazy?

Here, she was totally alone. Sephiroth caught her eye and turned to her with a half-smile that made her lips turn up in return. It was as if to say, "We'll be okay", even though she had no idea where they were going. Or if they were really going to be okay.

Her hand sought his, and after a hesitant moment he held it. His fingers were ice cold, and rubbing them, she hoped she could make them warm somehow.

Cid Highwind open the hanger for Reeve's helicopter to come inside. It was a quiet little craft, but he reserved always a special place in his heart for his Highwind. He closed the hatch, opening communication with the hanger. "Welcome aboard!"

"We've got hot cargo," Cloud replied, his voice crackling over the old electric radio.

Cid peered through the screen. Sephiroth and Aerith came into view. The old pilot threw himself at the microphone, howling, "What the hell do you think you're doing bringing them both on board my baby? Are you - " Expletives rapid-fired from his lips for a few moments before he found the right words, " - crazy!"

Of course Sephiroth and Aerith stood still. Sephiroth frowned, his brows furrowed, and Aerith giggled. "You can calm down, you know. I'm more afraid of falling even more now. It's big, but this one could still fall to the ground."

"Not _this_ ship, baby doll," Cid snapped back. "And if it falls, on the off chance that it does, it'll be on your pretty head! You too, you crazy bastard!"

"Cid, hush!" Desperate to get control over the situation, Reeve seized an opportunity to cut in. "Cloud, you're more familiar with the new and upgraded Highwind. Feel free to show them around, while I debrief Cid on what's happening."

Cid snapped angrily, "I can still hear you, you know!"

An infuriating prospect. He stared at the figure on the screen with the white hair. He couldn't believe it, but it had to be really HIM. He still had real nightmares about that guy. Not the one Cloud and others had shared. But it was him, all right. He shuddered a little bit. "Just what I need. A woman and a damn lunatic on my ship!"

The thunderous hum of an airship's workings was duller but resonated deeper. Aerith felt it straight through her feet to the top of her head. Sephiroth had let go of her hand as soon as they could disembark. Aerith, Cloud, Sephiroth and Reeve marched through the corridor to the bridge. Sephiroth was strangely relieved to not be guarded on all sides by soldiers. The WRO members held back in a relaxed manner. He had no idea why; maybe he was going to be treated like a human being for once.

Aerith pulled on his arm. "Cloud," she said hesitantly. "Can we... get something to eat? And maybe wash off? I'm not sure he's in the proper state to be addressing strangers."

Cloud, looked at her with a raised brow, seemed to come out of a reverie. He eventually smiled at her. "You don't have to ask... This is Cid's ship but you can do whatever you like to get comfortable."

An hour or so later, the ship was purposefully limning a jet trail across the sky. Sephiroth once again was clean, contemplating the blue sky not unlike his blonde spiky-haired rival before, as the clouds unraveled in fast-forward. Aerith entered the modest accomodations available on the Highwind; it smelled like machine oil and cheap laundry detergent. He seemed to devour the light coming in through the inch-thick glass.

"Where did you get that uniform?" Aerith asked. She touched his sleeve; it was a thick leathery sort of material. He seemed to be made of ink.

"I don't know. It just... appeared. That doesn't matter." He turned toward her. She blushed furiously as the cross-straps of his outfit secured the solid metal shoulder guards pushed into his hard chest. It was embarassing to see him like this. _ I've seen him naked before_, she scolded herself. _Why is this suddenly so different? Where did this uniform come from? _The sight of it made her entire body shudder with a familiar, unplaceable feeling.

"Aerith," he said softly, bringing his hand up to touch her face but keeping it away. She frowned. "What do you remember?"

The woman exercised her mind, trying to fill the gaps. But it was like looking out from the cave entrance into the snowfields. She could imagine seeing the sea and mountains. But only through a misty veil of cold, effervescent white. "I don't know. Sometimes I think I remember something. But all I know is what you and I have discovered together." She yearned to feel his hand on her face and she didn't know why. "Why?"

_I hurt you. Why can't I tell you? I have to know why. I can't tell you until I can explain why I did it. _His hand moved away from her skin. He couldn't feel it anyway. He felt cold all over again and his shoulder hurt as if someone had sewn his arm back on instead of fitting it properly. But that wasn't the entire reason why he couldn't touch her.

He pulled himself away to go to the door around her. She spun around so fast her pony tail nearly swung up to touch her face. "Sephiroth..."

"Don't you want to know why?" he asked impatienty. "Why they treat us so differently?"

"We're ghosts. It must confuse them to see us when we've already been gone so long. I'm sure it hurts them."

"They acted strangely around me as if I've done something awful. "

"That hasn't stopped you from following them around and doing what they say."

Memories bloomed behind his eyes. He saw familiar faces and heard voices dimly repeat the same phrases on the scratchy record surface of his soul. _Just a soldier. March. Do this. Do that. Don't forget to smile for the fans._

He felt so disgusted, he felt he could almost taste bile. He was disoriented again, like the day he met the wedded couple in Icicle Inn. He managed to hold his ground and not collapse again, but his body felt so cold and gone and not his own, it was unreal. Pieces of himself were coming closer to him.

"Perhaps that should come to an end." Sephiroth moved past her and ignored her startled noise as he strode into the narrow ship's corridor. The hum of machinery may have comforted some, but it was driving him insane. His presence seemed to suck the light out of the flourescents flickering above him. He wanted to get warm but nothing, not the warmth of her company nor the heaters blasting warmth through the vents above his head, would do so.

Aerith gasped and ran out to follow him, her own breast pounding and aching as her heart leapt in alarm.

The airship hummed beneath his feet, and Sephiroth's gaze swept the main bridge's crew for any feeling. He could almost taste the palpable fear coming off in sheets of sweat. Only a few showed lesser emotion, and they were the man in the red cloak whose body seemed to be made of stone and metal and Vincent Valentine. The sun seemed to fill the room with a golden brightness, making every polished metal surface awash with honey. He swayed in its glow, rigid with silent, powerful emotion.

"Sephiroth," Cloud whispered tensely. "What are you doing out here?" His gaze raked over him, a sheath of distrust encasing the pair, curtaining them off from everyone else. Distantly they could both sense Aerith rushing in behind Sephiroth.

_I'm sorry, Aerith._

He looked at her slowly. The look on his face, serene and unfeeling, was shaking her. His apology remained unspoken, but she looked as though she had really heard him. Then he pulled her close and swung her around to face the group. His eyes never wavered in that dangerous calm-before-a-storm fashion.

"S-Sephiroth! Y-Your hands are cold!"

"I want nothing but the truth from all you. I will tolerate nothing less." He held her tightly against him, a hostage - although he really had no such weapon to make a demand. But he gripped her around her small throat. His eyes coolly regarded the tension in the room. He slid his back to the wall with her in his arms. "Who am I?"

Cloud left no room for warning. He made to draw the massive blade, but Aerith cried out and squirmed as Sephiroth's grip on her throat tightened. In the calmest, chilling of tones, he warned him, "I'll break her neck if you try to stop me. I have no interest in the well-being of this woman. I don't even know her. Is she really that important to you?" His fingertips tug into her soft cheek.

Aerith was stunned to silence.

"She does mean a great deal to you, does she not?" Sephiroth reached blindly into himself for the cruelty he wanted to portray. What he found scared him - somewhere sleeping in the frozen wasteland of his soul there wasn't a speck of kindness or compassion. The smile on his face was not forced. One leather-clad index finger stroked her cheek and jawline, and part of him quivered with delight at the outrage expressed by those who were frozen with inaction.

"Who am I?"

The red-cloaked man stepped forward very sedately, his hands empty, but his voice shattering apart the brittle silence undercut by the steady humming of well-oiled machinery. "There's is no way to explain in a timely manner the atrocities you had committed in your life. If you desire answers, then you will let go of Aerith and I will tell you the truth that no one else has done."

He stepped past Cloud and somewhat in front of him - a stain of incongruity, a splash of blood on a golden caraffe. His eyes leveled with Sephiroth's and they gazed at one another, the man in black and the man in red. His arms stayed tight around Aerith's curved form, which conformed against his rigid chest, her ribcage expanding as she gasped for air.

Then he slipped his arms from her, and let her stagger forward and into Vincent's chest. She twisted around, her hair billowing, her eyes afire with confusion and anger. He stepped back, but she pushed from Vincent's chest and raised her hand, and it resounded on Sephiroth's right cheek with a punctuation of a crack.

Silent rage made her face a vivid pink. Clutching her chest, she ducked away, around him, and out back into the hull corridor without a word.

Vincent gave Sephiroth a long look, unsmiling, unimpressed. "Let no harm be done to anyone on this ship. If you want to know the truth, then be prepared for it."

"I was prepared," Sephiroth said lowly, holding his gaze without fear as if he did not care. "The moment I hurt her."

* * *

Vincent Valentine had known about Sephiroth long before he had seen him in the forest shrouded in white. He had been woken up out of a sound sleep, the first restful sleep in weeks, by his nightmare. It was the same dream described by Cloud Strife, only he had taken deeper pains to ignore it, or to wait for another sign to unveil itself. On an instinct, he took the next boat to Bone Village and from there to Icicle Inn. The day of his arrival was abuzz with the news of newcomers. A man and a woman had come from the frozen snowfields with two large dogs on a sled.

The moment he had laid eyes on the woman as she stood in the forest with the silver-haired man that could only be Sephiroth was a moment he would live with for the rest of his life. He had mourned Aerith Gainsborough like the others, and her passing had been at once a tragedy and a boon to humanity's survival. At times, he stood in horrified wonder, that mankind would often squander the gift it had been given. Sephiroth seemed to honestly retain no memory of himself. Indeed he seemed a mere shell taking his shape, with only the gross memory of what was proper and improper behavior. He spoke, walked, talked like the living reincarnation. But he possessed no memory. Judging from Reeve's reports, from the helicopter journey to now, he seemed capable of invoking that dark creature without mercy. He had slain those fanatics without prejudice, blood on his hands, on his face, in his hair - smeared like the true General of SOLDIER 1st Class.

He had seen only a glimpse of that powerful man during those few seconds in the battle against the bone dragon, and again as he came up from his fight with the worshipful fanatics. A dark man indeed lurked under the surface of the hapless wanderer. He could feel it.

He could ignore the dream. Feathers falling from the sky... the earth burning... It was an omen, and everyone knew it, but no one wanted to talk about it anymore.

Sephiroth was here amongst them and demanded answers. Vincent wanted to lie. But if he did, Aerith would get hurt. Somehow he did not doubt that Sephiroth cared about the girl, since they were so alike in their circumstances. But if she was injured because the Turk would not be honest, then he would be blamed.

He would also be responsible if he told the truth and, with that horrible knowledge given, risk Sephiroth going mad once again and attempting the planet's destruction.

There was no way that Sephiroth would not eventually find out. Even though it had happened so long ago, people refused to forget about it. There were books on shelves at any store about the event that people called Judgment Day and how it had almost come about. How the skies had turned red and the sea boiled as it swallowed the massive mass from space. There was even a day held in observance - people expressing their joy and gratefulness in such copulence that it was almost vulgar.

Vincent took no part in such celebrations.

He dreamed that horrible nightmare the same as everyone else. All he knew was that Sephiroth was here, and whatever he did or did not recall shouldn't have mattered. He should have killed Sephiroth on sight, unleashed the fury of Chaos on his weakened body before he regained his strength. He should have taken the initiative.

The way Aerith clung to the General of Shinra's SOLDIERs made him stagger his judgment. If she couldn't remember anything, like Sephiroth, then would that not make him her enemy? Was she even capable of vengeance?

He didn't think so. No, she would wallow in sadness and hate him silently until it tore her apart from the inside. She did not seem like the type to act on her negative emotions, much less have any.

No. He had intead set up a neutral position, watching them in the Icicle Inn, observing their behavior, trying to gauge the threat that Sephiroth presented.

Compared to the man he saw then and the creature standing in their presence on the bridge of the Highwind, there was an enormous difference. He seemed to exude a powerful black aura. His body was as still as stone, except for the way he breathed, like he was alive. But Vincent sensed something about him that bothered him deeply. His eyes met those deep pools of Mako.

"I think you are," Vincent intoned finally. "But we shouldn't have this discussion here."

Cloud seemed to relax, resigning authority of it to Vincent. Someone had to take responsibility. Vincent was arguably the oldest person, and therefore the most qualified. He was also least likely to allow his emotions to get in the way.

Sephiroth didn't seem to relax. With a vacant look he merely stepped aside and allowed Vincent to lead him to a room where they could carry on a discussion. There was a conference room on board, and Vincent led Sephiroth to it, followed by Tifa and Cloud who felt somehow it was their obligation to be present.

No one seemed comfortable enough to sit down. Tifa hovered by the doorway silently until she said sternly, "Since no one is going to, I guess I am the one who will have to go and comfort Aerith." She turned to leave the boys alone with the hope that her words might scald Sephiroth into feeling bad and the others worse for making Aerith shoulder her hurt feelings by herself.

Finally Vincent seemed to take a more forward standpoint. Cloud did not breach his silent treatment for a long time.

He started with Shin-ra - an almost dead company except for its subsidiaries in renewable energy research. He told him about the Mako reactors and the dead earth around them because it was sucking the Lifestream straight from the earth and refining it to burn as energy. He covered these topics briefly to give Sephiroth an idea of what sort of skeletons Shinra still fought to keep in the closet. The public was well aware that the company's president had recovered from the Geostigma and reigned supreme, but with redirected funding toward other projects. Rufus Shinra always maintained the audacity to ask AVALANCHE members for help cleaning up after his company's mistakes, such as the occasional monster outbreak.

Then, when it seemed the silver-haired man in black was beginning to seem impatient (how did all of that relate to him?), at a more subdued pace, he began to detail the specifics of SOLDIER - a specialized military force, hand selected among an even more limited few. He revealed the true purpose of the science department - the crowning jewel of their success, Jenova.

"None of that sounds familiar," Sephiroth said slowly. But there was a flicker of doubt in his intense eyes, something that set them aglow with something like fear. He didn't want to admit that he knew already.

_You know. _

_You murdered her._

But he said nothing, biting back the questions he wanted answered. He didn't care about all of that history. He wanted to ask what he had done that had made Cloud Strife hate him so much and the others... fear him. Fear him even though some part of him revelled that they cowered. Not outwardly. But their eyes...

_You killed her_, they seemed to say. _Don't touch her. You are poison. You'll kill her again._

"Sephiroth." Vincent seemed to take a vaguely more gentle tone but his general approach did not change. He spoke to him as if speaking to a dangerous bear about to explode. "You and Aerith awoke from the Lifestream for a reason. Have either of you thought about why?"

* * *

"I don't know!" Aerith repeated, wringing her hands. "I had no idea he would ever... ever do that to me."

Tifa stood idly by, her heart in her throat as she watched her best friend struggle with her disappointment and fear. If only she knew, if only she had been aware of it. So much death in the past, as they fought for the salvation of a Planet that probably couldn't abide even mankind's existence. Everything on the planet had been so mistreated, trampled over, ground into the dirt. And buried was a deep bitterness. It was probably no wonder that Sephiroth had come back. But that didn't explain why Aerith had returned too.

"Aerith," Tifa said softly. Her hands clutched behind her back as her weight shifted, her long dark tresses swaying. "I think there's something you should know."

Aerith dropped her hands from her face and her ears, hearing it again. Her chest ached and each breath she fought for. She knew it was true because her body told her so. And her memories seem to come first in a trickle - first as she knelt in prayer, communing, speaking to the Planet, bending her ears to its cries and murmuring a motherly reassurance - and then in a flood as the cold feeling washed over the back of her neck, multiplied by the ghastly empty whiteness of that hallowed cathedral of the Ancients. The cold feeling expanded through her chest, pierced, frozen in place and ice closed over her fingers, freezing them together under her breastbone. She looked down for just a moment. Her life blood ran down the blade and numbly her fingers unclasped and fell to her sides, and _then_ came the pain. Her eyes widened and she couldn't draw a single breath to scream. She couldn't see his face but she knew, she _knew it_, the Devil was smiling. Not at her but someone else, someone whose face was a twisted mask of horror and despair, the blonde man, the sad man, _Cloud_.

She was only vaguely aware of Tifa. She heard her shouting from somewhere far away, miles from her from above. Pain seemed to lock her in a terrifying paralysis as she relived that awful moment again and again, Tifa's voice relating the story, and his voice...

_He killed you in the City of the Ancients in front of everyone._

_That Ceta girl. She will prove quite troublesome, don't you think?_

Cold clawed at her throat. She felt the fear of death, and raked for some spiritual anchor, anything. She didn't know how to do any of those things anymore. Finally she felt someone pinch her arm - hard - and she returned to herself with a harsh ragged cry. Tifa stopped pinching and swallowed a sob of relief, locking her arms around her securely like a vice.

* * *

The ex-SOLDIER watched Sephiroth so closely his eyes ached. His familiar form did not match up with the way he had acted at first but slowly, horrifyingly, he was really just the same. A chilling sense of calm and understanding filled his eyes as Vincent told him.

"You slayed Aerith... Because she was an Ancient and the only one who could feasibly pose a threat to what you had planned."

The silver-haired man's gaze unfocused and he looked out the windows of the convening room, the view of the sky stretching forever. He was very still and both hands were closed at his sides. "I understand," he said at last. Emotionless. He moved rigidly toward the door, and for a second Cloud had half of a mind to tackle him to the ground and keep him from running.

But all Sephiroth did was look mildly thoughtful and, unbelievably, so morose that it would have broken anyone's heart.

Then all three of them heard Aerith screaming.


End file.
